Where the Heart Is
by RainaWrites
Summary: The Enterprise answers a distress call and finds out that a scientist has been kidnapped while working undercover on a planet. Riker, Troi, and their daughter must go under cover as well to try and find the missing scientist without breaking the Prime Directive. But once on the surface, they find much more than they bargained for.
1. Pride and Powell

**A/N: This is the next episode in a series I've been writing revolving around Carmen Riker (the daughter of Commander Riker and Counselor Troi from a parallel, war-torn universe who crash landed in the prime universe). I will try, however, to bring up any pertinent background information you need to know for this adventure so that anyone can follow along. Feel free to send me any questions if I didn't explain something enough :-). And if you're interested, the first story in this series is "Somewhere Out There."**

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"Hello?" Riker stepped into the dimly lit quarters, which at the moment, looked more like a crime scene.

"Over here." The voice hailed him from a blue sofa, which seemed adrift in a sea of dirty laundry and dirty dishes. Carmen slouched atop this sofa, a bowl of melted ice cream cradled on her lap.

Shaking his head, Riker made his way over to the replicator. After placing his order, a tall glass appeared on the tray. Steam wafted from its frothy surface. A bitter, earthy smell filled the quarters.

"Here," Riker offered, holding it before him as he waded towards the sofa. "This will straighten you out."

Carmen glared at him from over her bowl of ice cream. "Who said I need straightening out?"

"You're eating ice cream. For breakfast. At 1100 hours."

"What, is that against the law?" She lifted a half-melted spoonful. But Riker snatched the spoon, dropped it into the bowl, and set the whole thing on a side table.

"Not since I last checked. Now drink." He shoved the glass into her hands instead.

She scowled at him fiercely, but tilted the drink up to her lips for a sip. " _Blech_!" She bolted upright, sputtering in disgust. "This stuff tastes horrible!"

"Says the one who eats gagh," Riker pointed out. He sat down beside her and slung a foot across his knee, looking rather smug.

She scowled at him again. "Gagh is an acquired taste. But if I acquire much more of _this_ taste, I think my insides will liquify. What is it, anyways?"

"It's a Vulcan mocha."

"Vulcan?"

"Yeah. The ones who have no sense of humor. This is why, you know. Terrible coffee." A grin finally cracked her sullen demeanor. Riker's smirk turned into a smile of sincerity. "So are you gonna tell me what's wrong? Or am I gonna have to make you drink that whole thing?"

Carmen laughed wryly. "Alright, alright," she relented. Setting the drink down, she blew out of the side of her mouth and made herself comfortable. "Well, I was working late last night with Geordi. Sheppard always works late, too. I thought maybe we could go by Ten Forward after his shift. Grab some dinner."

"And?"

Carmen groaned as though it pained her to continue. "He was working with that Ensign Powell again. And they were talking about baseball. Can you believe it? _Baseball!_ "

"What, is that against the law?" he quipped.

"No," she shot back, slapping his arm. "But...it's just...that's _our_ thing."

"It's a lot of people's thing. Look-" Riker settled deeper into the sofa. "If you two are going to be just friends, then you're going to have to accept that this kind of thing will happen."

"But Ensign Powell? I doubt she even knows how to throw a baseball."

"Carmen…"

She knew that tone of voice. It meant a lecture was coming. She folded her arms, bracing for it.

"When you care about someone," he began. "It means you want what's best for them. Even if it's not what's best for you."

Carmen grimaced, loathe to hear the truth. "But how? How did _you_ do it, with Deanna?"

"Well, it went both ways. She always handled it better than I did, admittedly. And being a counselor, she'd probably have some sage, eloquently-worded advice on the subject. But as for me, it always came down to her happiness. If I wasn't ready to be the one to make her happy, then I had to swallow my pride and let someone else do it. It was better than _both_ of us being miserable and alone."

"Yeah, I know," she grumbled, sinking against his shoulder. "But that doesn't really make me feel better."

"Well...what about the fact that Powell is engaged, and she probably brought up baseball because her fiance is a big baseball fan?"

" _What?_ " Carmen exclaimed, straightening back up. "Are you sure? How do you know that?"

His smugness returned. "I did a little digging around. You're not the only one who noticed they've been working together a lot."

"Wait-have you been keeping tabs on him?"

"What, is that against the law?"

A relieved laugh burst from her lips. "Well...thanks. For looking out for me." She clapped a hand over his knee.

"Don't mention it," Riker insisted. "And you know...if anything comes up while I'm gone, you can always talk to Geordi."

Carmen paused, her gratitude morphing into suspicion. "You asked him to keep tabs on _me_ , didn't you?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny-"

"Oh come on," she groaned. "You'll only be gone for a week. And I'll be on the Enterprise the whole time. How much trouble can I get into?"

"I shudder to think of the answer."

"Okay how about this…" Carmen pulled up her legs so that she was sitting cross-legged on the couch. "I _promise_ not to get into trouble while you guys are on your honeymoon. Happy?"

Riker pretended to waver on whether or not he believed her. "Alright," he finally said. "We still have a wedding to finish planning, anyways. Oh! Speaking of which…" He rose from the sofa, pulling the front of his uniform straight. "We're expecting company for dinner tonight. She's helping Deanna with all the wedding stuff. I apologize in advance."

"For having company?" Her brows drew together quizzically.

"Well...you'll see." He sighed, already exasperated it seemed, and turned to leave without further explanation.


	2. The Ambassador

Ensign Allan Sheppard sat at a lone table, heedless to the lunchtime drone of Ten Forward. His eyes, the same chestnut brown as his hair, flitted to a clock on the wall and then back to his glass. With a dejected sigh, he lifted the neon blue drink to his lips. Of average height and average build, he rarely warranted a second glance. But those who took the time to speak with the young ensign discovered a softness in his smile that belied a rare, invincible sort of kindness.

"Hey Sheppard!"

He looked up to find Haykov dragging a chair his way. The junior officer was easy to recognize, with a portly build and shockingly white-blonde hair. His eyes, a little too small and a little too close together, lent him a pugnacious countenance that seemed to repel women as effectively as his crass sense of humor.

Sheppard opened his mouth to return the greeting, but had to wait until the chair came to a stop, for it grated against the ground with a toe-curling screech of metal. Nearby patrons turned their heads with silent, disapproving scowls.

"So what are you up to?" Haykov asked, heaving himself into the chair once it had reached the table.

"I was just on my out, actually," Sheppard glumly replied.

"On your way out? But you've barely touched your icoberry soda." Haykov nodded towards the mostly full glass. "And where's Ensign Riker? I thought you guys always take your breaks together."

"She was busy, that's all." Sheppard took a new, sudden interest in his icoberry soda.

"Uh oh." Haykov pulled himself closer to the table and lowered his voice. "What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing."

"Well that's what you've been saying ever since we got back from Zinor six months ago," he scoffed. "But we all know better than that. Come on; you can tell me. We're best friends, after all."

"We are?" Sheppard eyed him dubiously.

"Sheppard…" Haykov flung a hand across his chest in a wounded fashion. "I know you're probably just lashing out, but you don't have to be so hurtful. Now come on. Is it someone else? Wait-" His eyes sparkled hopefully. "Is it me? Is it 'cause she's into me?"

Sheppard took a long, slow sip of his soda before answering. "Like I said-it's nothing. She's probably just busy." He set the drink down with an air of finality and then pushed away from the table.

But Haykov grinned, hot on his trail. "A moment ago you said she _was_ busy. Now she's _probably_ busy? Which is it?"

Sheppard froze. "Well, uh...I mean…" He was trapped, and he knew it. "Alright, so I don't know. But it's none of my business, okay? It's not like she has to run her plans by me or anything."

"Well if she _has_ moved on, then some sort of notice would be nice." Haykov jumped up from the table, following at the young man's heels. "I mean, after all that we've been through together."

"Haykov, I think you're taking this a little too personally." Against his will, Sheppard felt a smile tugging his lips. For though boorish at times, Haykov often proved to be a sincere source of solidarity when it mattered.

The two made their way from the cafe, down a long and well-lit corridor, and towards the turbolift doors. "Anyways, she's probably just helping the counselor with wedding plans or something like that," Sheppard insisted.

The turbolift doors opened and someone stumbled out in a hurry. Sheppard and Haykov jumped out of the way, their eyes widening at the sight of their captain.

"Sir?" Sheppard prompted. Picard looked up, blinking at the young man as though just noticing him for the first time.

"Oh! Good evening, Mister Sheppard. Mister Haykov." A distracted smile flitted across his face.

"Is everything…?" The young man trailed off. It felt absurd to ask the captain such a question. He looked to Haykov for help, but even Haykov appeared too stunned for words.

"Oh, yes. Everything is fine. As you were, gentleman." Picard nodded politely and then continued on his way. But he hadn't made it three paces before he paused, turning slowly back around. "Actually, uh...I would appreciate it if you kept this meeting between us."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," Sheppard said, still baffled as ever. He followed Haykov into the turbolift and then watched the captain's back as he disappeared down the length of the hall.

After the doors closed, Haykov let out an audible breath. "Well, that was weird."

"You're telling me," Sheppard concurred. "I wonder where he was going in such a hurry?"

"It looked to me like he was running _from_ something."

The turbolift paused, having reached the next level. The doors opened and a young woman ducked inside, looking just as harried as the captain. "Deck Six," she mumbled, taking up post as close to the door as possible and trying desperately to smooth out the front of her velvety green dress.

"Carmen?" Sheppard blurted out.

She leapt back, a mortified look of shock on her face. "Sheppard! _Baka_ , I was hoping not to run into anybody on my way. I feel ridiculous in this thing. I mean, where I am supposed to put a phaser? Or a knife-there isn't even anywhere to hide a knife!"

Sheppard flushed with color. True, there was no hiding anything in that dress. It clasped delicately over one shoulder, swooping across her humble bosom and leaving her other shoulder bare. A band of embroidered silver hugged the curve of her hips, and below that the dress flared out gently in pleated, shimmering waves.

"And where are the pockets? Mankind was supposed to have _progressed_. Yet here I am without pockets. _YIDoghQo'..._ " She continued her peevish rambles in Klingon, all the while tugging here and there at her dress.

"Why uh, why are you wearing that?" Sheppard asked, trying his best not to stare.

"What?" She looked up at him. "Oh, for dinner. Deanna picked it out."

His heart sank. So it wasn't the counselor's wedding plans keeping her busy after all.

"For dinner?" Haykov brusquely repeated. He had no doubt reached the same conclusion.

Sheppard stopped him from asking more with a warning of a glance. "Well you look...you look beautiful," he said, managing a smile.

"Yeah?" She smiled back, her disdain suddenly forgotten. In front of her, the turbolift doors opened to Deck Six. She stepped across the threshold. "Hey, you should come with me," she offered, looking over her shoulder. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Sheppard started to follow, but Haykov pulled on his arm. "No thank-you," he declined.

"Why not?" Carmen frowned.

"Yeah, why not?" Sheppard yanked his arm free and glared at the other young man.

"Because we have to get back to Engineering. We can meet your... _friend_...another time." Haykov nodded curtly.

"I guess so…" she trailed off, puzzled by their umbrage. Just then, there was a loud exclamation from the other end of the hall. "There you are!" someone cried delightedly. Turning towards the voice, Carmen sensed a strange, new aura before she saw anyone. This newcomer leaned over her mind, pressing against her thoughts with a stifling yet benevolent presence. "Oh, let me have a look at you!"

Before she knew it, someone had taken a hold of her face for better scrutiny. Riker and Troi came to a stop several paces away, watching helplessly. Carmen's eyes flicked over to the commander in a silent plea to intervene, but he merely flashed her an apologetic smile.

 _It's alright, love. I won't hurt you._ The woman's voice slipped into Carmen's thoughts as easily as one slips through an open door. She bore a striking similarity to Troi, but with graceful lines of age added to her visage. A garish robe seemed to glitter and swish even when she was standing still. Her hair, a rich mahogany, had been wrapped into an oversized bun and held in place with a garland as outrageously colorful as her attire.

Troi cleared her throat. "This is my mother, Ambassador Lwaxana Troi."

Lwaxana smiled lavishly, still holding Carmen's face hostage. "Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed. And you have no idea how long I've been waiting to behold a grandchild of my very own." Troi scoffed aloud at the slight. But Lwaxana carried on with her study of Carmen, paying no mind. "Look at these big, bright eyes! They suit you well, you know. Even if they make you look like your father. And your chin...such elegance. It curves the same way as my Deanna. You remind me so much of her at this age."

Carmen beamed at the comparison. "Really?"

"Oh yes. The women of our family have always been blessed with beauty. _And_ brains. That's a fact no matter what the universe, apparently." She patted Carmen's cheek several times. Though the young woman despised the unsolicited touch, she felt somehow honored by the attention. This woman was a stranger, and yet she looked upon her like family. "And who are these marvelous young men?" Lwaxana asked, staring past Carmen.

It wasn't until then that she remembered Sheppard and Haykov's company. "Oh! Uh...these are my friends," she said, half-turning towards them for a hasty introduction. "That's Ensign Sheppard. And that's Ensign Haykov."

"Haykov, hmm?" Lwaxana zeroed in on him. "What a...creative...mind you have."

"Mind, ma'am?" Haykov gulped.

"She's telepathic," Carmen informed him. He blanched, his face becoming a ghastly shade of white. "Oh, uh, we were just on our way to Engineering. Gotta...gotta get going," he insisted. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Troi." He ducked his head and then retreated into the safety of the turbolift, leaving Sheppard awkward and alone.

"Yes, dear boy," Lwaxana said as though in answer to a question. "I am her dinner guest for this evening. Why? You two didn't have plans already, did you?"

"What? Uh, no. No plans. I was just..I..." Sheppard's cheeks turned a rosy shade of red as he stood there, stammering for an answer that would not form.

"Ah, I see." Lwaxana waved her hand dismissively. "Well no worries, young man. This one is completely smitten with you."

Now it was Carmen's turn to blush. One hand went to her brow, where she shielded her eyes from meeting Sheppard's. And therefore, she did not see the funny little smile dancing across his face as he joined Haykov in the turbolift.

"Come along Bright Eyes." Lwaxana looped her arm through Carmen's. "I'm starving. Will-you have my luggage, don't you?"

"Yes, Ms. Troi," Riker replied without any enthusiasm.

"Call me Lwaxana, love. We were engaged once, after all. Remember?"

Carmen's eyes flew wide. "What?!"

"It's...a long story," Riker mumbled, stooping to pick up an absurdly large suitcase. "And I have a feeling it's about to be a long dinner, too."

"By the way…" Lwaxana continued, overlooking his despair. "Where is Jean Luc? Has anyone seen him?"


	3. Dinner Conversation

**A/N: I'm back! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I thought after finishing "Broken Pieces," it was time for something a little more cheerful lol. Can't wait to unpack the rest of this story for you!**

 **Madcraftermom-Aww yay! Your review is why I write! :-) I love hearing when someone enjoys my work. I was taking a hiatus from this story while I finished a different one. But that one is all wrapped up, so I'll be focusing solely on this one now. I hope you keep liking it!**

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" _You?_ You were going to marry a bartender?" Carmen's eyes sparkled with amusement as she listened raptly to the ambassador's tale.

Lwaxana reached for a platter of exotic fruits. "Oh but he was so...so...mysterious," she said, picking up something round and purple that resembled a plum. "The only man I couldn't read. It was enchanting, really."

"Why couldn't you read him?" Carmen asked, her plate of food still largely untouched.

"Because he was a hologram. See, _that_ one failed to explain that holodeck programs aren't real." She threw an accusatory glance in Riker's direction.

The commander put up his hands defensively. "Hey, who was I to spoil your fun?"

As Carmen's laughter spilled forth, Troi rolled her eyes. "He was just relieved that my mother had finally moved on from him."

"You were more relieved than I was," he shot back. She smacked his arm and cast him a playful scowl.

"Will was intimidated, you see," Lwaxana said with a sigh. "I tend to have that effect on human males. They are dreamers, who prefer shallow fantasies to the depths of something real, something raw. That's why they've created those holodecks, no doubt."

"Well you know what they say…" Riker leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together behind his head. "Imagination is more important than knowledge."

"Who said that?" Lwaxana demanded.

"Albert Einstein, I think."

Carmen tilted her head to the side. "Who is Albert Einstein? I've heard the captain talk about him before."

"He was a famous physicist, back on Earth-"

"Ah. Another human male," the ambassador scoffed. A round of laughter made its way around the table.

"Well I deal with enough mysteries out here, thank you very much," Troi said, pouring herself another glass of champagne. "No need for marriage to be one, too."

Riker grinned at her appreciatively. She dropped one hand beneath the table and let it run atop his leg. Carmen smiled, turning her face towards her plate. Their love had a way of spilling over into her empathic senses, a way of repairing old cracks that had long since fractured her heart.

"I suppose you take after her, then?" Lwaxana said. Carmen's eyes darted up. She felt a faint tinge of dread in the way the conversation had turned so abruptly to her.

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't that why you adore the boy-what's his name again, Sheppard? There's certainly no mystery with him."

"He's very...he's honest. It's like he can't help it," Carmen said, somewhat defensively. "Makes him a good friend."

Lwaxana brought her hand up with a giggle. "My dear, you're delusional if you think he's just a friend! Where do you all learn to hide your true feelings? Does Starfleet hand out certifications for that or something?"

As Carmen blushed, Troi sent her mother a reproachful look. But Lwaxana would have none of it. "I think the girl should come with me to Betazed. _Someone_ has to teach her how to embrace her heritage."

"Betazed?" Carmen perked back up. "We can go to Betazed together?"

"Now mother, don't get her hopes up-" Troi started. But again, Lwaxana brushed her off.

"Sure, why not?"

"For one thing," Riker gruffly interjected. "She has responsibilities aboard the Enterprise."

"Oh, nonsense. She can come and stay with me while you two are honeymooning. I could use her help planning the second ceremony."

"What second ceremony?" Carmen asked.

Troi rose from the table, picking up her empty plate and stacking it atop Riker's. "Mother insists on having two weddings: one on Earth and one on Betazed. That way we can honor both human and Betazoid traditions."

"Come on," Lwaxana beseeched, reaching across the table to squeeze Carmen's hand. "We'd have so much fun!"

"That's what scares me," Riker grumbled. He pushed away from his chair, helping Troi to clear the table. As they busied themselves with cleanup, Lwaxana continued the conversation telepathically.

 _You'd love it on Betazed. Fresh air...waterfalls...beaches. We should have the ceremony outside, now that I think of it._

 _Will the wedding be a big one?_

 _Oh, no. Our people prefer intimate affairs. Stop pulling on your dress, love. You might tear it._

 _Sorry._ Carmen grimaced. _I don't care for dresses very much. I'm so used to wearing a uniform._

 _At least you won't have to wear one for the Betazed ceremony._

Carmen picked up her glass and took a sip. _That's a relief. What will I wear then?_

 _Nothing at all, Bright Eyes. Nothing at all. Betazoid weddings are conducted entirely in the nude._

Carmen's drink went spraying out of her mouth with such force that it extinguished all three candles adorning the tabletop. Riker had just reached for another dish when he leapt back in surprise and dismay. "What in the name of-"

Door chimes interrupted his exclamation. Carmen sprang from the table eagerly. "I'll get it!" she cried, dashing away before anyone could say otherwise.

On the threshold, she found Picard waiting expectantly. "Good evening, Miss Riker," he greeted. She smiled, grateful to see the kindly captain and even more grateful for the interruption.

"Jean Luc!" The swishing of Lwaxana's dress reached a feverish pitch as she scrambled to Carmen's side. "You've come to join us, haven't you?"

A faint shudder possessed the captain. "Oh, well, not exactly. While I did want to extend my personal greetings, I'm afraid I've come here tonight on official business."

"Official business?" Riker repeated. He set a stack of dishes down and straightened his shoulders with a hint of hope. "Well, I suppose dessert can wait. Ladies, if you'll excuse me-"

"Actually-" Picard held up a hand, halting him in his tracks. "I'm here for a different Riker." His gaze fell pointedly on Carmen.

The young woman's eyes widened. "Me, sir?"

"Yes. It is rather urgent. There's someone I need you to speak with immediately."

Hesitating, Carmen glanced back at Riker. "Go on," he urged, his shoulders sinking with bitter disappointment.

There was something sly in Picard's smile as he nodded farewell to Lwaxana. "My apologies. I suppose I will have to join you for dinner another time, Ambassador Troi."

"Jean Luc, Jean Luc," she clucked, not to be outdone. "We both know you have much grander plans than just dinner. But shame on you, thinking such salacious thoughts in the presence of my granddaughter! Your obsession with me is getting quite out of hand."

Picard's face turned ghostly white, stripped of all color, slyness, and dignity. He stammered some kind of thank-you or goodbye to the commander (Riker couldn't tell which) and then turned to leave, followed by a wildly entertained Carmen.


	4. Faith

Carmen found herself holding her breath as she entered the briefing room. The captain's urgency piqued her curiosity, but he had maintained a pace too brisk for her to ask any questions on the way. And so when she finally stood in the threshold of their destination, her eyes immediately swept the room in search of answers.

The faces of four men turned towards her from around a long, glossy table. The eldest, a man with steel gray hair combed neatly to one side, burst from his seat with a greeting. But the greeting died on his tongue as soon as Carmen stepped into view. His eyes shifted past her to the now-empty door frame as though hoping to see somebody else.

Picard cleared his throat. "Gentleman, I'd like to introduce you to Ensign Riker," he said, extending an upturned hand to invite Carmen further into the room.

The man with steel gray hair resigned himself to his seat with a bitter scowl. "Perhaps you misunderstood the stakes, Captain Picard. That is an esteemed doctor and scientist of Starfleet down there. And you want to send a...a... _child_...after him?"

Carmen's temper flared at the disdain in his voice. "I'm not a-" she started, but Picard silenced her with a look.

"You asked me for help, Mister Keeling. Now I ask you to have faith in my answer. And that answer is Ensign Riker."

Keeling's lip drew into a thin, skeptical line. His fingers drummed against the table as he scrutinized the young woman for a hint of weakness or frailty. She bristled, refusing to shrink away from his imposing study of her.

The gentleman across from Keeling, who possessed a much softer countenance, mustered a smile in her direction. "Please forgive his hasty judgment, Miss Riker," he appealed. "But Joseph meant a great deal to him. To all of us. We _must_ get him back alive."

Carmen's defiance fell away upon hearing his plea. She glanced between the four men, recognizing their weariness for the first time. She had worn that weariness herself-the weariness that comes from losing a loved one. "What happened to him?" she asked.

Picard took a seat and gestured for her to do the same. As she slid into the chair beside her captain, Keeling drew a deep and troubled breath. "We...were stationed in the Thallian system," he began. "A quiet system. Out of the way. Joseph was interested in its asteroid belt. He had this wild theory about how it formed, you see. He always had a wild theory kicking around that brain of his." A fond smile pulled at his lips. But almost instantly, he remembered his pain and the smile vanished. "Anyways, one week ago we picked up a subspace signal. Fleeting, foreign. A distress call perhaps. We weren't able to decode it, but we _were_ able to trace it."

Carmen's intrigue swelled. "Where did it come from?"

"From Vakrona, a class M planet. Starfleet has been keeping tabs on Vakrona for years. Their technology, though still in its infancy, has made significant progress in the last decade. Not significant enough to produce a subspace signal, however."

"They don't know about the Federation then?"

"No. And their sun's powerful solar flares interfered with our sensor readings, leaving us no option but to go down to the surface for ourselves. It was a delicate task, to investigate without making our presence a memorable one. We decided to make camp just outside of a small village called Almer."

"What about the locals? Didn't they question you?"

Keeling sighed briskly at the young woman's impatience. "Of course they did. We told them we were an investigative team from the nearby metropolis. Almer is a rather old-fashioned village, and so our excuse afforded us a comfortable amount of neglect."

"I don't understand," Carmen said, looking to the captain for an explanation.

"It is quite common, actually," he mused. "There seems to be an inherent mistrust between those who dwell in the country and those who dwell in the city."

The gentleman at the far end of the table nodded fervently. "They wouldn't even serve us at the local tavern. They'd just turn up their noses and walk right by. But while the drink didn't flow, talk sure did."

"There were rumors of something falling from the sky," Keeling explained. "Some of the locals had gone out to see what they could find, but the jungle proved too dense. Too dangerous. It hindered our search as well."

"But surely you had better means-"

"We were being watched." Keeling stared at her dourly. "At first, we thought it was the villagers. That blasted girl was always following us. We feared she might report us to her father if she caught sight of any alien technology. If we were to be detained...questioned…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"What girl?" Carmen glanced again at Picard, but he offered no answer.

"The innkeeper's daughter," the man at the far end answered her. "A cheeky little thing. I caught her red-handed once, and you know what she said to me? She said she was looking for her friend. In the middle of the jungle. Ha!" He huffed out a dry laugh. "No children play in _that_ jungle."

"And then we found the carcass," Keeling continued. "An animal carcass. It had been killed with an energy weapon. That's when we knew that we were not Vakrona's only visitors."

Carmen narrowed her eyes. "And Joseph-is that what happened? Did he find these other visitors?"

" _They_ found _him_." Keeling's chest caved. "He had gone back to camp early. It was our fourth night there, and the heat wasn't suiting him well. When we returned later…" A tremble entered his voice. "We...we…"

"We found signs of a struggle." One of his companions finished for him. "All night, we looked for him. When we returned to camp in the morning, we found it ransacked for a second time."

"This time, the perpetrator was still there." Keeling had regained his voice. "Elion-I think that was his name. He was an agent of an actual investigative team from the city. Our ruse was up. He demanded to know who we were and what we were doing there. We had to flee, lest we be taken into custody."

"But what about Joseph?"

Picard lifted a hand, gently halting the conversation. "That is why we need you, Carmen. It is too risky for them to show their faces in Almer again. They've come to us for help, and we need somebody who can find the missing doctor."

"With all due respect, sir-" The man at the end of the table laced his fingers together. "That jungle down there...it is a dangerous place. And we don't know who-or what-has Joseph. Elion claimed to know nothing about his disappearance."

"Miss Riker is accustomed to danger, I assure you," Picard answered.

"What about another team?" the man suggested.

"No." Keeling shook his head. "You know how small Almer is. Another group of strangers would draw too much attention. They'd be monitored closely, especially now that the government is involved."

"If I remember correctly," Picard interjected. "Vakrona has strong patriarchal tendencies, does it not?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, all the more reason to send Miss Riker. They would not think to suspect a young woman. Her presence would pose no threat."

Keeling grunted, reluctantly conceding Picard's point. "She will need to learn about the culture if she is to blend in," he insisted. "And we do not have much time."

"She is used to learning under pressure," Picard countered. "She is capable. She can think on her feet. And whatever happens, trust me when I say that she will not leave anyone behind."

Carmen's chest swelled with gratitude. To hear the captain's faith in her felt like finding something long lost. She looked over at him with a small but glowing smile.

Picard rose from the table when no other rebuttals were made. "Miss Riker, you may return to your dinner for now," he instructed. "But we begin your training first thing tomorrow. Time is of the essence."

* * *

Carmen did not return to Riker and Troi's quarters right away. She stopped over in Ten Forward first, in need of some time alone with her thoughts. And maybe a Samarian Sunset. _Just real quick_ , she told herself, knowing that once she returned to the dinner she would have to explain everything. And that made her apprehensive for some reason.

She waited at the counter, mulling over Keeling's tale. Just as Guinan set a glass down in front of her, she saw someone else approach the counter out of the corner of her eye. "Hello, commander," Guinan greeted.

Carmen's head whipped to the side. "Will?!"

"Carmen?!" he exclaimed, equally surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Riker squinted down at her. "I asked you first."

For a moment, Carmen held his stare unflinchingly. But at last she broke away, shifting her attention to the drink in front of her. "Fine," she relented, tapping the rim to make the liquid change colors. "I just...I needed a moment alone."

Guinan planted a glass in front of the commander. "Likewise," he said, holding it aloft in a salute. With a grin, Carmen followed suit. _Klink_ went their glasses. "They've moved on to wedding plans, anyways," Riker said after emptying half his glass. "I can only talk about flowers for so long. And do you have any idea what it's like to have a mother-in-law who can read your mind?"

Carmen set her drink down and wiped at her mouth with a sleeve. "Well _I_ like her."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. She's...fearless."

Stepping over one of the stools to take a seat, Riker laughed heartily. "That's for sure. Did you see the look on Picard's face? I've seen him stare down a Romulan general, for crying out loud. Who would have thought that a little old Betazoid woman is what _really_ scares him?" Carmen snorted, nearly losing her drink for the second time that night. Riker's grin faded suddenly at the reminder of the interruption. "Hey, so what did he want? Is everything okay?"

Carmen's grin faded as well. "Oh, uh...yeah. He wanted to see me about a mission."

"A mission? What kind of mission?"

"Well, a rescue mission actually." As concisely as she could, she recounted the chain of events. Riker listened intently, his brows drawing together to create deep lines of concern. "They can't send another team without drawing suspicion," she said, wrapping up. "But one person can be much more discreet."

"Sorry Carmen, but you aren't very discreet," the commander retorted. "And what about the wedding?"

"Don't worry. I'll find the missing doctor and be back in time for the rehearsal."

But Riker didn't appear any more comfortable with the idea. "That's a little cocky, don't you think? It's your arrogance that will get you into trouble. Especially during an undercover operation like this."

"You don't think I can do it?"

"I don't think you're ready."

She tightened her grip on the glass. "Well, I wasn't asking permission."

Riker sighed heavily. He had come up against her walls before. "Carmen, look-"

"The captain thinks I'm capable," she interrupted. "Isn't that good enough?"

"And if he's wrong? I'm just trying to look out for you-"

"No you're not! The problem is that you don't trust me. You couldn't even make plans for your honeymoon without asking Geordi to keep tabs on me. _Baka,_ I'm getting tired of everyone having such little faith. But guess what-" She slammed the drink down and climbed out of her seat. "I've been fighting a war for the last seven years-w _ithout_ you! So thanks for the 'concern,' but I can take care of myself."

She stormed out of Ten Forward in a huff, leaving Riker alone with his drink and a whole new set of problems.


	5. Chances

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad you guys are loving Lwaxana. I'm a huge fan, too. :-) Here's a very Lwaxana centric chapter for you guys!**

* * *

When Riker returned to his quarters, it was with the hope that Lwaxana had retired for the night. But to his chagrin, she was still settled happily on their sofa. A mug of Jestral tea balanced on her lap as Troi scrolled through pictures of floral arrangements on a small, handheld screen.

"William!" Lwaxana cried excitedly. "Look at these calla lilies-I think they're perfect for the welcome table at the reception. Earth's reception, that is. Betazed has a much more exciting variety to choose from."

"Yeah they look fine," he mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Troi set the screen aside with a frown. She had sensed the commander's dampened spirits the minute he walked in.

"He's sulking about Carmen," Lwaxana replied, waving a dismissive hand in his direction.

"What about Carmen? Is she alright?"

"She's fine," Riker insisted. "Just...a little upset."

Lwaxana hoisted herself off the couch. "Well _I_ think it's all great news." She fluffed up the layers of her dress. "I mean, don't you think a rescue mission would be good for her?"

"What rescue mission?" Troi glanced between them, puzzled.

"Oh, it was all over Jean Luc's thoughts when he came in earlier. Before his thoughts were all over me, that is."

"Yeah well the last mission Carmen went on almost killed her," Riker pointed out. "She's brash and we all know it. It'll get her into trouble again."

"It might." Lwaxana shrugged. "It might also lead her to the missing doctor."

"And if it doesn't? Why is everyone ignoring the other possibility?"

"There are all kinds of possibilities, darling-including failure. But that isn't her fault."

 _Or yours,_ Troi added. She moved behind the commander, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him close so that her head was nestled against his back. _I know you're worried, imzadi. So am I. But she's learned a lot since her last mission._

Lwaxana carried her cup over to the sink, accompanied by an exuberant swishing sound. "Just think of all those years that she was sent to kill, to destroy. To go against her nature." She paused, leaning one hand against the counter in a pensive fashion. "Imagine what that must have done to her."

Riker's mind drifted to when they first found the young woman. He winced to remember how often and how violently she used to lash out. After so many years, the destruction had turned inwards.

"What if she had the chance to save, instead of kill? To rescue, instead of destroy?" Lwaxana pondered aloud. "I think she deserves to know what that feels like."

Riker sighed resignedly. The ambassador's words had found their mark. He placed his hands over Troi's and gave them a squeeze. "I do, too. Suppose I should have another talk with her?"

"Leave it to me," Lwaxana ordered. "She's still pretty furious. What she needs now is her grandmother." Without further ado, Lwaxana gathered the billows of her dress and departed from their midst.

Riker stared at the door as it closed behind her. "Should we be intervening?"

"She'll be fine," Troi promised, turning him around to face her.

"You mean Carmen or your mother?"

She burst out laughing. "Both of them. My mother...she has a way with people. Besides, I have other plans for you."

"Please no," he groaned. "I'm tired of talking about flowers and color schemes and centerpieces-"

"Not those kinds of plans." Something sultry glinted in her eyes. "See, I'm tired of talking, too."

" _Oh._ " With one hand, Riker nudged her chin upwards, guiding her face closer to his. The fingers of his other hand slid beneath the strap of her dress. "Well in that case…" He kissed her softly. The strap fell away from her shoulder. "Don't say another word. I've got it from here."

* * *

 _Open up, Bright Eyes. It's just me._

Carmen jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. Lwaxana's voice had come into her thoughts so clearly, she might as well have been speaking aloud.

 _I'm tired. Maybe in the morning?_

 _You're not tired, you're lonely. I can help with that._

Begrudgingly, Carmen opened the door. "It's...kind of messy in here," she warned, shoving things aside with her foot in order to clear a path.

"You don't have to apologize for your mess," Lwaxana assured, breezing past her. She wandered about the living area, picking up random objects and examining them at length. Carmen watched her all the while, slightly bemused. Then she came to a small, wooden carving that sat in a prestigious place, high upon a bookshelf. "What's this?"

"Will got it for me in Alaska," Carmen explained. She took it from her gingerly. "It uh, it reminds me of something I had when I was little. Only that was a targ, not a moose."

Lwaxana's smile brimmed with sympathy. "It helped keep your nightmares away, after your father died."

Carmen's head whipped up. "How did you know that?"

"Your memories are lying around in plain sight, my dear." She pointed to her temple.

Carmen set the wooden moose back up on the shelf. "Sorry," she mumbled, wondering what else the ambassador had seen amidst the jumble of violence and loss.

"Like I said...you don't have to apologize for your mess." Lwaxana took hold of Carmen's shoulders. "Now come on. Have a seat with me."

But the young woman stiffened. "I suppose you heard about what happened with the commander?"

"Yes."

"And you're here to tell me that it's too dangerous, that I should-"

"I said have a seat." Lwaxana urged her towards the sofa again. This time, Carmen relented.

"I'm a Starfleet officer," she said as they sat down side-by-side. "I can't just play it safe all the time."

"You're absolutely right."

One of Carmen's eyebrows arched. "I am?"

"William is a member of Starfleet, too. He understands that. But he's also a parent, and a parent's job is to protect their child."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Carmen retorted. "Never go on an away mission again because my da-because Will is a commander?"

"Nonsense. He just needs some time to adjust." She nudged the young woman's shoulder. "And I don't mind if you refer to him as your dad."

Carmen grimaced, sheepish about her blunder.

"You know what?" Lwaxana added. "I don't think he would mind, either. He cares about you an awful lot."

For a moment, Carmen forgot that she was mad at him. She stared straight ahead, dwelling on that word that had been so painfully cut from her life. Though she had become part of a family, always there was a small, final part of her that held back. The part of her that called Will and Deanna by their names instead of acknowledging their roles.

"Oh, darling." Lwaxana took hold of one of her hands. "I know it hurts. I went through this with Deanna, too. It takes a long time to grieve something like that. But do you know what grief is?" Carmen shook her head, puzzled by the question. "Grief is love with nowhere to go. You're grieving because you still have love."

"I'm grieving because I lost," Carmen stated, trying her best to cling to her anger. "And calling him dad won't change that."

"No, it won't. But it will give that love somewhere to go."

A muscle in Carmen's jaw pulsed as she tried to fight against the ambassador's words. But all her reasons, all her excuses, fell away.

"That's all you can do, really," Lwaxana continued. "Keep loving, come what may. Love as much as you can for as long as you can. That is the Betazoid way. And you, my dear, have known that all along I think."

Tears pricked at Carmen's eyes. She wiped at her nose, finding it wet. As she steeped in a newfound humility, an idea suddenly flitted across her mind. With a knowing smile, Lwaxana patted her knee and began to stand up.

"Wait-where are you going?" Carmen asked. "I mean, won't you stay? Just a little longer?"

Lwaxana beamed. "I'll stay for as long you like, Bright Eyes. But promise me you'll tell Jean Luc about your idea."

"My-?"

Again, Lwaxana pointed to her temple. _It's a very good idea. William and Deanna will be thrilled to find out they can go down to the planet with you after all._


	6. A Change of Plans

"Did you get the page from Picard, too?" Riker stepped into the bathing quarters, barely dressed and holding his combadge in one hand.

"Yes," Troi answered, running her fingers through her hair as she stood before the mirror. Her eyes shifted from her reflection to the commander. "Now hurry! We'll be late."

"But I was supposed to report to the bridge. Why-"

"Looks like plans have changed."

Riker stepped closer, reaching around her to set his combadge on the counter and raising a suspicious eyebrow. "You already know what this meeting is about, don't you?"

"Maybe." A smirk hid in the corner of Troi's mouth. Meanwhile, her gaze roved unabashedly over the commander's reflection. Without warning, he bent down and scooped her up. She shrieked in surprise. "Will! What are you doing?"

"Tell me," he demanded, walking her back towards the bedroom.

"I have to finish getting ready! Put me down!"

He threw her onto the end of the bed and then climbed over top, pinning her in place. "There, I put you down," he said with a grin. "Now tell me."

A giggle broke through her feigned outrage. "Alright, alright. It's about the mission. But that's all I'll say!" Her fingers reached up to run through his dark hair. "What now, hmm?"

"I have a few ideas." He bent down and kissed the side of her neck. "And so do you, judging by the way you were looking at me back there."

"They'll be expecting us soon, you know," she reminded him. But his kisses continued, and soon his lips were making their way across her chest as it began to heave. "Okay..." she relented, every breath dissolving into a moan. "You have...five...minutes."

"Ten," he growled.

She would have argued more, but her resolve had already given way.

* * *

Riker and Troi hurried through the halls on their way to the briefing room, feeling a bit like tardy school children. They paused just outside of the doors. "Ready?" Riker asked, straightening his uniform and steeling his composure.

"Ready."

As the doors opened, Riker could see a number of people occupying the conference table. Picard presided over the meeting, Carmen sitting to his left. Though she had no doubt heard them come in, she kept her face turned away, towards the captain. Four elder gentlemen sat scattered among the rest of the seats. They glanced towards the door, almost in unison. Then three of them looked to the last, a man with steel gray hair and grave eyes, as if gauging his reaction. _He must be their leader,_ Riker infered.

Picard waved them in. "Sit down, Number One. Counselor." Nodding politely, each took their seat. "These gentlemen are here from the _Rutherford_ ," Picard began. "The research vessel that made contact with us yesterday. Miss Riker has informed you of their predicament?"

The commander nodded. "She has." His eyes fell on the young woman, but still she kept a cold shoulder between them.

"Good." Picard shifted his attention to the strangers at the table. "This is Commander Riker and Counselor Troi. They are the ones who will be accompanying her down to the surface."

"Riker?" one of the scientists echoed. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes flitting between Carmen and the commander. "Ah. I see it now."

But Riker was still reeling from the rest of Picard's statement. "Down to the surface? I thought a team wouldn't work in this case?"

"No, a team wouldn't work," Carmen said, turning towards him for the first time. "But a family might."

Riker glanced at Troi, who smiled at him excitedly. The man with steel gray hair smiled as well, though it was more of a sneer that twisted his lips. "I'm glad you've reconsidered," he said. Carmen's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

"More officers on the surface mean better chances for the missing doctor," Picard asserted. "And this way, we can utilize the counselor's Betazoid abilities as well as your experience with the Prime Directive, Number One."

"How familiar are you with Vakronian culture, commander?" one of the scientists asked him.

"Only vaguely," he admitted.

"These men will train you in what you need to know." Picard nodded towards the scientists. "Then Dr. Crusher will assist with the modifications. We need to begin immediately, I'm afraid. I know the timing is...unfortunate."

Troi placed a hand over Riker's arm. "It's alright, sir. The wedding plans can wait. And I'm sure my mother would be more than happy to extend her stay."

* * *

Hours passed as they submersed themselves in Vakronian history and politics and etiquette. They decided on a backstory, and each committed it to memory. Keeling, the head scientist, warned them to steer clear of Elion and the others sent by the government to investigate. "They are not yet ready to believe in outside lifeforms. If given the chance, I feel they would meet the revelation with hostility."

"Why?" Carmen asked, wrenching her face in confusion.

"Fear of the unknown," Picard answered her. "Mankind was once as limited."

Keeling nodded. "Please. You must find Joseph before they do." His shoulders drooped, and Riker felt a pang of pity for the despair behind his eyes.

Carmen spotted it, too. "We will," she promised, forgetting her dislike of the man for a moment. "Rest assured."

A proud smile tugged at Riker's lips. Her promise had been so sincere, so eager, even though Keeling had made his lack of faith apparent. It was then that Riker realized why she had been so upset with him the night before. His skepticism had no doubt been harder to swallow than Keeling's.

Once they had been dismissed, Carmen mumbled a few hurried goodbyes and then left straightaway. Riker dashed down the hall after her. "Carmen! Wait!" he called. She paused, but did not turn around.

"What?"

"That...that was a good idea back there," he said, coming around to stand in front of her.

She gave him a flippant, one-shouldered shrug. "Well I didn't come up with it because of what you said. Just so you know."

"Then why?"

"Because…" She squared her jaw as she articulated the answer. "Because this isn't about me, okay? This isn't about proving anything. It's about that missing doctor, and bringing him home again."

She pushed past him, continuing down the hall. Riker smiled, slowly shaking his head. "That's why Picard was right," he said. "And I was wrong."

The admission halted her feet once more. "What did you say?"

"I was wrong," he repeated. "You _are_ ready for this."

Carmen said nothing else as he turned back down the hall, heading for the briefing room where Troi was waiting. Still, he could feel her stare the whole way. _At least I hope I was wrong._


	7. A New Friend

**A/N: Your guys' reviews have been making me so happy! I've definitely needed the encouragement, too. Next weekend is my tournament (only my second one ever!), and so this has been a long and difficult week of training. Been sparring twice a day and I'm pretty beat. Been excited for this chapter, though. I hope you like it! Got some fun plans for this away mission...**

* * *

A hot sun beat down on Jora's shoulders, which were beginning to ache. The young girl picked up another tunic-recognizing the light blue as her father's-and threw it onto the washboard. Red water swirled past her ankles as she rubbed the garment clean. "You know something?" she said aloud, tucking a short lock of auburn hair behind her ear. A dog lifted his head as he rested atop a nearby boulder. "I heard that in the city, they have machines to do this. Wouldn't that be great?"

The dog, his fur a dappled silver, laid his head back down and sighed. His cone-shaped ears turned this way and that, listening to the drone of the jungle. Suddenly, his sharp hearing latched onto the sound of footsteps crunching over the rocky sand. His head lifted once more, turning behind him, and his long, bushy tail began to thump against the boulder in a preemptive greeting.

Within moments, a figure emerged from the shadow of the trees. Jora recognized her long-legged stride as she moved swiftly and effortlessly over the uneven ground. It was the daughter of the family from Ebon Plains. They had arrived at her father's inn two nights ago, and right away Jora felt eager to impress this solemn-faced stranger. After all, it was not often that she found herself in the company of another girl-not with seven rowdy brothers to take care of. "Oh, hello Carmen!" she called.

Leaping down from his boulder, the dog trotted towards the new arrival. Carmen halted, eyeing him warily. "It's alright," Jora laughed. "He just wants to be friends."

The dog shoved his nose into Carmen's palm. She retracted her hand and glared at him. "I know. He's very...persistent."

Jora waded through the water and up onto the shore. "Come on, Silver," she urged, tugging at a leather collar around the dog's neck. "Can't you take a hint?" But instead of listening, Silver jumped up, planting his front paws on the young woman's shoulders.

Carmen sputtered a protest as he avidly licked her nose. "What are you-get off of me!" She pushed against his chest until he returned all four paws to the ground.

Jora shooed him away. "It's strange, actually," she said as he pranced off towards the river for a drink.

"Yes, what an ineffective way to make friends," Carmen agreed.

"No-I mean, Silver doesn't take to everybody. But he's sure taken to you! How come you don't like dogs?"

Carmen's hand ran down her neck, a reflex to the question. "I...I was bit by one recently."

"Oh. I see." Jora's smile sobered. "Well Silver wouldn't hurt you. Once you're his friend, he's a friend for life."

"Great," Carmen muttered, still wiping the slobber from her face.

A giggle rose from the young girl. "He's brave, too. Once, he pulled on the bottom of my shirt and kept me from falling into a patch of blackweed."

"Blackweed?" Carmen glanced at her sideways.

"Yeah. Nasty stuff. I guess you wouldn't know about it, being from Ebon Plains." There was a lot that she didn't know. Despite her self-assured air, Carmen lacked any discernible talent. She couldn't peel tubers from their garden behind the inn, she struggled to keep the kitchen fires burning, and despite how comfortable a knife looked in her hand, she couldn't even shell rivercrabs. Jora found herself secretly delighted by her ineptitude, for it gave the young girl a chance to show off. "But anyways," she continued, "blackweed grows on the jungle floor, usually in places where the sunlight can't get through. Its leaves have this oil that'll make you very sick. People in our village have died from it before. Did you come to help me with the laundry?"

The question caught Carmen off-guard. "What? Oh, no. I was just...I was taking a walk. I thought the river might be easier to cross here."

"Why would you want to cross the river?"

"To get to the other side." A grin snaked its way across Carmen's face. Jora's forehead furrowed. _People from Ebon Plains sure have a strange sense of humor._

"Well _I've_ been to the other side. The river slows down a little farther, just beyond that bend." She pointed downstream. "It's where I always cross. I can uh...I can show you around sometime, if you want." While Jora knew that her father didn't approve of her little excursions into the jungle, she also felt anxious to spend more time with her new friend.

"When? Can we go tonight?"

Carmen's answer, and her impatience, surprised the young girl. "Tonight? Um...probably not. I'll be too busy cleaning up from the big dinner my mom is planning. She's invited your parents, you know."

"Oh." Her lips pursed together. Jora cringed at the sight. She raked her mind for a way to ease her new friend's disappointment.

"But uh...hey, want to see something special? I found it last time I crossed the river." Without waiting for an answer, she dashed over to a little satchel resting on a rock. "Don't tell anyone. Especially my dad; he'd make me give it to that government guy, Elion."

This sparked some intrigue. Carmen moved closer, hovering over the girl as she dug through the satchel. At last Jora found what she was after and withdrew it carefully.

"See?" She held it aloft. "It's called a Gardener."

Something flickered behind Carmen's eyes. "What did you say?"

"It's called a Gardener," the young girl repeated. "What do you think those symbols mean?" She traced her finger over the silver V, which sat atop a golden circle.

"Wait-why did you call it that?"

"Because that's what it was saying when I found it. 'Gardener….Gardener.' I've tried to make it talk again, but maybe it's broken."

"And...you haven't told anyone about this?"

"Nope. Just you." Jora grinned up at her. "Pretty neat, huh?" But Carmen was no longer looking at her. Or the Gardener. Her eyes were locked onto something across the river. Craning her neck, Jora turned to follow her gaze.

A shadow moved between the gnarled and twisted tree trunks lining the opposite bank. Jora's heart gave a flutter. _It's him!_

"Hey, uh, I'm almost done with these. And then do you want to look for rivercrabs with me?"

"Stay here," Carmen ordered, slowly rising to her feet. "I think I saw something."

"No, it's-it's a trick of the light. Happens all the time." Jora hurried to her feet as well. "And besides, Silver isn't acting weird. He'd alert us if something were wrong."

Carmen looked to the dog, who was sniffing the air. His tail gave a faint wag at whatever scent he picked up. Reluctantly, her posture eased. "I guess so," she mumbled, turning away. Jora sighed with relief. As much as she wanted Carmen to meet her other new friend, his warning still rang in her head. _"You must never tell anyone about me. There are people who are looking for me-people who would kill me if they found out who I was."_


	8. Company

**A/N: Well it looks like my gym will not be participating in this tournament. I'm a little bummed, but on the bright side, now I can pig out on pumpkin pie and my daughter's Halloween candy! Haha. Also, more importantly, I can devote more time to writing. :-) Enjoy! I hope to get the next chapter out much sooner, sorry for the wait.**

* * *

Troi lifted her hair from the back of her neck, draping it over one shoulder instead. Though she sat on the inn's shaded porch, a sheen of sweat covered her body. The sweltering heat was an uncomfortable change from the Enterprise's climate-controlled corridors. But soon, a purple moon would rise over the jungle. Darkness would bring cool breezes that smelled of night flowers, and a nocturnal chorus of creatures would serenade the stars above. Troi leaned back in her chair with a sigh, enjoying the thought of another evening in Almer. But then the creak of a wagon roused her from her thoughts.

"Greetings, Lady Deanna!" the driver called, pulling two massive, woolen creatures to a halt. Streaks of copper showed through his graying hair, which corded together like straw. He scratched at a long, wiry beard and then rested his elbows atop a generous girth. "I brought your husband back, just as promised."

Riker leapt down from the wagon, dressed in a long tunic and billowy trousers. His eyes had been changed to a speckled orange, as was more common among males of Vakrona, and several bands of colors tattooed his left arm. "Guess what we built?"

Troi stood up, peering into the back of the wagon. "You built _that?_ " she asked incredulously. An emerald green dresser with four golden drawers laid on its side, surrounded by blankets to soften the jolt of the ride.

"Well, Mr. Adren here did most of the carving. And sanding. And painting. But it was a team effort overall."

Adren laughed good-naturedly. "I appreciate your help today, but when you folks reach Kitadara, I wouldn't recommend looking for work in the carpentry business."

"Don't worry." Troi smiled. "I'm sure we'll find something else. In the meantime, I really appreciate all you've done for us. Your inn is such a lovely place."

"Oh, don't mention it." The affable old man gave her a wink. "Besides, my wife is rather fond of your family. Especially this one." He gestured towards Riker and winked again. Troi giggled. His wife's crush was no secret; in fact, it served as a source of great amusement to the rest of them. "Anyways, I better head up and see if she needs help with dinner. Sure smells good, doesn't it?"

Riker agreed whole-heartedly, then thanked Adren and waved him goodbye. As the wagon rolled on, Riker made his way to the porch where Troi waited for him with open arms. He embraced her gratefully. "Any more news?" he whispered.

Troi's mind drifted back to the last communication she'd heard from Carmen. _I thought I saw something. It may have been nothing-you know how the sun and shadows play tricks. But I should stay with Jora, just in case. I found her by the river, washing laundry._

"No, nothing new," Troi answered. "But I'm sure everything is fine. Carmen is just a little...distracted. You know what Jora is like."

A wry laugh burst from Riker. "Distracted? I think she would call it _harassed_." Troi laughed along with him. Being several years younger, Jora looked up to Carmen with a childish sort of zeal. Carmen's feelings, however, were less enthusiastic. The girl's chattiness wore her down, and if Jora was busy, then one of her brothers could be found trailing the ensign. Despite her austerity, the children stuck to her like little shadows. "I'll bet she can't wait to go home," Riker added.

"That what she thinks," Troi replied, leaning into him. "But Carmen has always struggled to accept that which she needs." Riker tilted his head towards her quizzically, waiting for her to explain. But Troi ran her hand over his back with a gentle, knowing sort of smile. "I think I needed this, too. This place...it reminds me of home. My first home. The jungle...the water…"

"The moonlight?" Riker leaned down to kiss the top of her pale shoulder. "Or rather-things we did under the moonlight." An alluring wave of emotions rolled from his mind. Troi bit down on her lip. The lack of privacy had also led to a lack of intimacy, and a single kiss was enough to remind her of that.

"You'd better go wash up," she said. "Or I might not let you leave."

Riker grinned. "Would that be such a terrible thing?"

" _Yes_. You know how hard Lorana's been working on this dinner."

"Alright, alright," he grumbled, pulling away. "What about you?"

"I'll wait here for Carmen."

"See you soon, then." He kissed her one more time, a brief peck on the lips, and then trudged off towards the main house. His footsteps receded across the courtyard, and eventually, the evening resumed its tranquility. Tantalizing smells wafted from a clay chimney over the kitchen. Stars chased the sun out of the sky. Evening drowsed into night.

At last, distant movement caught the counselor's attention. She saw Carmen making her way down the dirt road with a long pole slung across the top of her shoulders. A bucket swung from each end of this pole. Jora ambled along beside her while Silver pranced circles around her feet. _Help,_ Carmen pleaded. _She won't stop talking. Don't Vakronians need to breathe?_

Troi waved, relieved to see both girls again. _Well at least it's almost dinnertime. Did you find anything?_

 _I didn't, but Jora did. Where's Will?_

 _He went up to the main house already._

"Lady Deanna!" Jora cried. "Look what we've got!"

"Wow!" Troi exaggerated her surprise. "Did you find all those rivercrabs by yourselves?"

"Sure did!" she answered, beaming with pride. Then she turned her nose up and sniffed the air hungrily. "Kapi steak! My favorite! Come on Carmen-we have to get these crabs shelled in time for dinner!"

Carmen sent the counselor a doleful look. _I miss the replicators. And having my own quarters._

Troi offered her a sympathetic smile as she stepped off the porch and followed them across the courtyard. One last sliver of light fell across the roof of the main house, which spread out like a mosaic of red and yellow shingles. Each wall, bright blue as the daytime sky, met in clean, straight lines. Vines covered the side that faced that the courtyard, winding their way up and over the eaves.

Suddenly, the muffled strains of a fight reached Troi's ears. Carmen paused, poised and alert. Carefully setting the buckets at her feet, she jogged ahead to investigate.

"Don't worry!" Jora assured, her voice bouncing in time with her feet. "They _always_ do this." The two girls pushed open the heavy front door and disappeared inside. Troi wasn't far behind. Setting foot on an orange tiled floor, she discovered a battle waging in the middle of the room.

Five children swarmed a mountain of a man, who rose from their midst with a roar. Two boys hung from his arms while another latched onto his throat. The rest hurled themselves at his knees in an effort to bring him back down to their level.

"Boys! What in the name of all seven deities has gotten into you?" A large woman appeared, spatula in hand. Frizzy red hair poked out of the braids down her back. A single bead of sweat rolled from her temple. She dabbed it away with the corner of a well-worn apron and glared at them expectantly. "Well?"

The battle paused. Five guilty faces looked back at her. No- _six_ guilty faces, Troi noted. Riker stood in the center of all the trouble, a sheepish grin on his face. "I'm afraid this is my fault," he apologized. "I put them up to the challenge."

"And the Perler family never backs down from a challenge!" declared the boy hanging from his neck. The others whooped in agreement and renewed their assault on the commander.

"Boys! _Boys_!" Lorana put two fingers in her mouth and blew out a shrill whistle. "Kindly get off of our guest and go wash up. Jora! Where have you been?" As the boys began to slink off one by one, their mother's exasperation turned on their sister.

"We were looking for rivercrabs, just like you asked-"

"Well get them into the kitchen or I won't have time to cook them! Mr. Will would be very disappointed if he didn't have any crabs to go with his steak." She shuffled forward and brushed the commander off, helping herself to an eyeful of bare chest beneath the low cut of his tunic.

"Yes, those rivercrabs are pretty delicious," Riker agreed.

"Mama thinks _he's_ delicious," one of the boys snickered. Then he scurried off before his mother could seek retribution. Troi covered her mouth to hide a giggle.

Lorana tried to plant her hands on her hips in indignation, then realized she was still holding the spatula. "My gravy!" she cried, suddenly remembering. And then she, too, hurried out of the room.

Troi watched their host disappear down a long corridor. Oil lamps hung at intervals, each small flame throwing off dancing shadows. "I thought you were supposed to be washing up?" she teased her imzadi.

"Yeah, how come you get to have all the fun?" Carmen pitched in. The young woman stood with a scowl and her arms folded across her chest.

Riker shrugged. "Hey, I'm just taking one for the team."

Troi laughed in good stride, but Carmen wasn't in a humorous mood. "Well now that we're alone for a minute, there's something you should know…" She cast a cautious glance around the room. "Jora found his combadge-the missing doctor's combadge."

A sudden urgency gripped Troi's chest. "His combadge? How did she get it?"

"She found it somewhere across the river. She offered to show me, but we didn't have time today. And her chores will keep her busy tonight. Maybe you guys could think of something…a diversion..."

The commander's brow furrowed. "Carmen, I hope you're not thinking of going out there alone after dark."

"Yeah, well…I hope you're not hoping too hard."

"No." Riker shook his head. "We should wait-"

"Wait?" Carmen repeated furiously. "I thought you trusted me! I can take care of myself, remember?"

"Yes, you've said that once or twice," Riker retorted. "But-"

"We have a mission to accomplish. What if Gardener is injured? Or worse? He could really need us right now, and you want to wait?"

"I know, I know." The commander held up a hand. "But I don't like the idea of anyone going out there at night. We don't know the area well enough."

Carmen glanced at Troi for backup. "Sorry, Carmen," she said. "But I agree with him. It's too dangerous."

The young woman blew out an angry sigh. "You know how hard it is for me to do anything alone around here. Nighttime may be my only chan-"

A knock on the door startled them all into silence. They cast one another anxious glances, not daring to move. The knock rapped again, a polite and almost melodious sound.

"Coming!" Jora came racing down the corridor. Silver bounded after her with a flurry of barks.

"Jora, wait-" Carmen started to say, but Riker stopped her. He motioned for her to hang back and edged closer to the door.

Jora's hand was on the latch by now. She threw it aside and swung the door open. Curious-and sensing no malice-Troi drew herself up behind the girl.

A man stood upon the threshold. Slender and somewhat lanky, he looked handsome in a subtle sort of way. He brushed a lock of plain brown hair from his forehead and smiled amicably. "Hello again, Jora. Silver! Hey, boy!" The dog sniffed his hand, then turned and walked back inside.

"Hello, Mr. Elion," Jora said, equally unimpressed. _Elion?_ Troi gave the man a second look. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn't this. He hardly came across as an imposing government agent.

"And who are you? I haven't seen you before," he said to the counselor. Though his smile remained a polite one, she could sense a surge of something much more primal from the man. His gaze turned into fawning admiration.

"She's my wife," Riker brusquely interjected, pulling her back towards him. "And we're only passing through."

"Ah. Staying at the inn then?"

"That's right." Riker held him in an even stare. Carmen came to his elbow, eyeing the stranger with a similar aloofness.

"Well if you'd like, I could get the lady of the house," Troi offered. "She's busy with dinner-"

"Dinner! Oh, I'm starving," he said, sidling into the room. "And I've heard that Lady Lorana's cooking is quite famous around here." He reached out to rumple Silver's ears, but the dog shirked away from his touch. Shrugging off the slight, Elion rubbed his hands together excitedly. "This way, I take it?"

"Here, I'll show you to the kitchen," Jora offered, her voice lacking its wonted ardor.

Carmen looked up at Riker, awaiting some kind of intervention. _It's alright. Let him go,_ Troi said, touching her lightly on the arm.

 _But Keeling said to stay away from him!_

 _Strange, don't you think? He seems pretty harmless. Still, this way we can dig around a little. See how much he knows._

 _I suppose so,_ Carmen reluctantly agreed _. But I don't like the way he was looking at you._

Troi's laughter drifted towards the young woman's mind. _Well don't worry-I can take care of myself too, you know._


	9. A Primitive Lot

**WIWJ-I'm glad you're liking it so far! I had a feeling you'd like the family scenes :-).**

 **NikitaKaralis-Aww, thank you! If nothing else, there is another tournament in March. So I might have to set my sights on that one! Also, I've already eaten way too much candy haha. Thanks so much for your reviews :-)**

 **Zara08-Haha can you imagine? Poor Riker. Course, he's pretty used to it :-p**

* * *

"Quit sampling!" Lorana smacked Kadan's hand as he reached for a sweet roll.

"But I'm hungry!" the little boy whined. "And Tern's eating one!"

His brother, who could have been his twin if not for the subtle age difference, stuffed the stolen roll into his mouth before his mother could make him put it back. Then he smiled smugly at Kadan, both cheeks bulging with food. Lorana leaned over them with all the wrath of a maternal glower. "If I catch either of you eating more food before it's on the table, you better pray to every single one of the gods-"

"Mama!" Jora's voice rang down the corridor. "Mama, Mr. Elion is back!"

The rest of Lorana's threat died in her throat. "Mr. Elion?" she repeated, smoothing the front of her apron as though she were smoothing her frazzled mind.

He appeared in the kitchen doorway, an apologetic smile on his face. "Hello again, Lady Lorana. I hope you don't mind."

"Well you government folks aren't the type to give notice," she grumbled. "What can I help you with now?"

"How about some dinner?" He patted his belly hungrily. "I haven't eaten since this morning, and your cooking smells better than any restaurant in Kitadara."

She huffed and puffed, her face turning red with exasperation. "Fine, fine. Now everybody out until dinner is served! How am I supposed to get anything done with a crowd underfoot…" Kadan and Tern scuttled out of the kitchen, filching a few more sweet rolls on the way. Snickering with success, they darted under the long, wooden table in the dining room to enjoy their loot.

"Hey! What have you got now?" came an accusatory voice. Their sister appeared, squatting down beside the table to better see what they were doing.

Tern groaned. "Under the table is for boys only, Jora."

"You don't make the rules." She clambered through the chair legs to join them. "And give me one of those sweet rolls, or I'm telling mama."

"Sure, I'll give you a sweet roll," Kadan offered. He handed her a cloven lump of bread and flashed her a cloying smile.

Jora examined it carefully. "You licked it, didn't you?"

"Did not!" he protested. "Look, do you want a sweet roll or not?"

Still unconvinced, she lifted the top half from the bottom half. And there, on the doughy surface inbetween, wriggled a fat brown worm.

"A crawler? Really?" She shoved the roll into his hands.

"What's the matter?" he taunted. "Don't like any meat with your bread?" Both he and Tern fell about laughing.

Not amused, Jora crossed her arms. "Where did you even get a crawler from? Don't tell me you've been collecting them again."

"He's been _hoarding_ them!" Tern's eyes shone with utter delight. "Show her, Kadan!"

After a quick glance around, Kadan shoved his hand into his pocket and produced a fistful of flailing worms. Then he reached into his other pocket and emerged with even more.

Jora recoiled in disgust, sending both boys into new bouts of laughter. "You didn't leave any in the kitchen, did you?" she asked, her face filling with sudden horror.

"I can't remember," Kadan teased. "I guess you'll just have to find out!"

"Yeah, but be careful eating your salad!" Tern joined in.

Jora's fists clenched. "You wouldn't ruin mama's dinner like that! Besides, what are _you_ going to eat then?"

"Maybe I'll eat worms." Kadan smacked his lips together. "Juicy, delicious worms."

Slowly, Jora's fists uncurled. Something sly slid across her face. "Oh yeah? Then eat one. I dare you."

A faint trace of fear fluttered behind Kadan's eyes. "Now?"

"Right now."

Tern bunched his legs beneath him excitedly. "Yeah! Do it!" he goaded. "The Perler family never backs down from a challenge, remember?"

"Shut up!" Kadan glared at his traitorous brother.

"He won't do it. He's a baby." Jora ruffled his reddish-brown hair. "It's okay, baby. Maybe I can fetch you Wrennie's bottle of milk instead."

Now it was her turn to join Tern in a round of derisive laughter. Kadan's face turned purple with indignation. "Fine," he hissed. "I'll do it."

Both his brother and his sister fell silent. They watched him intently as he picked up the smallest worm and held it in front of his face. It writhed between his fingers, glistening with putrid slime.

Kadan opened his mouth. He brought the worm closer, shuddering with anticipation. The worm passed his lips and disappeared behind the wall of his teeth. His mouth closed.

"Jora?"

A voice startled each of them. Jora jumped, nearly hitting her head on the underside of the table. "Carmen!" she exclaimed. "Uh, hi!"

The young woman peered at them through the forest of chair legs, a baffled expression on her face. "I thought your mother said no more eating until dinner?" Her gaze flitted between the pile of rolls on the floor and the pile of worms in Kadan's hand. For some reason, the boy's mouth was clamped shut and his eyes bulged as though trying not to cough.

"We just...we uh...want some?" Jora sheepishly offered. Carmen shrugged. She reached under the table, but to Jora's horror, she scooped up several worms instead of a sweet roll. Then, without hesitation, Carmen let them slide off her palm and into her mouth.

Tern blanched. Meanwhile, Kadan's skin was turning a peculiar shade of green. A mortified silence stole Jora's words as she waited for the aftermath of their horrible misunderstanding. _That's it. She'll hate me forever now._

But Carmen's face remained neutral. For a few moments, all that could be heard was the squelching sound of her chewing. "Needs a little salt," she stated, straightening back up and then leaving the room at a leisurely pace.

As soon as she was gone, Kadan hunched over the floor and began to wretch. "I swallowed it whole!" he shrieked. "The slime...I can still feel the slime…" He rubbed frantically at his tongue.

"Did you see that?!" Tern's stare was glued to the hallway, where Carmen had disappeared from his frame of view. "She didn't even flinch!"

Jora was staring after her new friend, too. But a sense of pride slowly filled her chest at the awe in her brother's voice. "I know. Isn't she great?"

* * *

The dining room filled with mouth-watering smells. Platters of food covered the table, each one colorful and magnificent and making Carmen's stomach rumble. She had never seen the likes of such a feast before.

At Lorana's bidding, everyone took their seat. Jora wedged her brothers out of the way, ensuring a place next to Carmen. Riker and Troi stayed close to their hosts. Elion, to their surprise, joined the gaggle of boys at the other end. He took a seat between Kadan and Tern, who exchanged mischievous grins at their stroke of luck. One of the chairs remained empty, Carmen noted. Then she realized that Jora's oldest brother was missing. Strangely enough, nobody seemed surprised or upset by this fact.

An excited clamor ensued as everyone began to pile food onto their dishes. Elion helped some of the smaller boys who couldn't reach before filling his own plate. Curious, Carmen found herself studying him from across the table. She tried to concentrate, reaching into her empathic senses. Maybe she could find a trace of deception, something duplicitous from the man. But to her disappointment, she found nothing of the sort.

"So then, Mr. Will," he said once everyone's plate was full. "Where did you say you were from?"

"Ebon Plains," Riker answered, his tone flat and guarded.

"Ebon Plains...let's see…" Elion rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That's a mining town, right?"

"That's right."

"And what brings you this way?"

"Work." Riker brought a forkful of food to his mouth, offering nothing else on the subject.

"He never cared much for the mines," Troi explained. She passed the agent a polite smile. "We're hoping to find something better in Kitadara."

"The city!" Elion brightened. "Oh, you'll like the city. The center of innovation. Have you ever ridden in an auto carriage? Fuel-powered, no animals necessary! They're all over the roads there."

Adren snorted. "I'll stick with my animals, thank you very much. They don't break down and leave you stranded."

"But animals tire out. They have limits."

"Your machines have limits, too," Adren pointed out.

"For now," Elion admitted. "But one day, I think they'll surpass our wildest dreams. You know they're working on things that can take us into the sky?"

"What's in the sky that's so interesting?" Adren wheezed with laughter. "Mr. Elion, the High Court must be full of of fanciful fellows like yourself to be funding this sort of nonsense."

"The High Court?" Troi pretended to look surprised.

Elion set his fork down. "Oh! That's right! I never properly introduced myself. I'm Elion Redlum, agent of the High Court."

"And what are you doing outside of Kitadara?" she asked, leaning forward to rest her chin on one of her hands.

"They've sent a few of us here to investigate the crash."

"It wasn't a crash," Adren insisted firmly. "It was a rock. Those space rocks have been known to fall this time of year."

"But I heard it didn't fall. It flew. Flew into the jungle like a bird with a broken wing."

Carmen's gaze flicked over to the commander. They exchanged a subtle glance. Meanwhile, Adren shook with incredulous laughter. "Aliens! Is that was this is about? Has everyone in our government lost their minds?"

But Elion held fast to his dignity. "There's life on our planet. Is it such a leap to believe there could be life on other planets?"

"Aliens?!" one of the littlest ones cried. "I've seen a picture of aliens! In one of Kadan's books! Did you know they eat brains?"

"Only the brains of little boys," Jora taunted. Her mother stared at her sternly, but Carmen cast her an approving grin.

"Perhaps they eat worms," she whispered. Jora giggled at the private joke, though its true depth went above her head.

"What do they actually eat, do you suppose?" Tern asked, enthralled with the conversation. "Or do they even need to eat?"

"The real question-" Troi interposed. "Is what would they be doing here? What are your thoughts, Mr. Elion?"

Elion smiled at her appreciatively. Carmen looked down at her food, keen to hear his answer but trying not to show it. A small, furtive movement caught her attention. Across the table, Kadan was pulling something from his pocket.

"Well," Elion started. "Maybe they're explorers. I mean, if you had the means to leave this planet, wouldn't you want to see what else is out there?"

A roll. It was a roll that Kadan was carefully retrieving. His free hand crept towards the roll already occupying Elion's plate.

"We have a whole jungle still unexplored," Adren retorted. "No need to traipse around someone else's backyard just because of a...a well-developed sense of curiosity. And anyways, if it was aliens, how come they haven't shown themselves yet? Why travel all this way just to hide?"

Elion's brow wrinkled in a pensive fashion. "Maybe...maybe they're just here to watch."

"Watch what? Watch me work in the garden?"

"Watch us develop. Maybe they're waiting for us to be technologically worthy-"

"Worthy? A pompous lot, your aliens are."

"No, see…" Elion shifted in his chair. Meanwhile, Kadan had slipped the agent's roll out of view. "Maybe they're staying hidden because they don't want to interfere with our natural progression. Think about the ramifications of showing up on a primitive planet with advanced technology. You'd be altering an entire civilization's future."

"Who are you calling primitive?" Adren shot back. Carmen mustered a laugh, but she felt increasingly more uncomfortable with his uncanny deductions. Looking over at Riker, she could feel the same apprehension emanating from the commander. But he concealed it with much more competence. One could barely even tell that he was listening to the conversation.

Troi, on the other hand, tilted her head to the side as she hung onto every word. While most of her reaction was contrived, Carmen could sense a hint of genuine intrigue. "Surely you'd have some sort of...of evidence by now. Tell us," the counselor implored. "Have you found anything exciting?"

Elion's smile faltered. "Well...nothing exciting enough for the High Court. But when I was out there last, I saw...well I could have _sworn_ I saw…" Carmen held her breath, waiting for him to finish. Then she noticed that Kadan had placed the roll from his pocket onto Elion's plate. Something wriggled in its center.

"What? What did you find?" Troi asked.

"Smoke," he answered. "I thought I saw a spiral of smoke coming from the base of that distant ridge."

"Shadow Ridge?" Jora squeaked.

Elion looked over at her, puzzled. "Is that what it's called?"

"That's what _I_ call it," she admitted. "Because it's always covered in shadow. It's like clouds never leave the sky above it."

A strange little smile took the place of Elion's confusion. "You seem to know that jungle better than anyone I've met," he mused. "It's kind of funny, actually."

Carmen felt a blaze of indignation from the girl. Her face scrunched into a defensive scowl. "Why?" she demanded. "Because I'm a kid? Or because I'm a girl?" Keeling's face drifted into Carmen's mind. She felt a sudden and strong sympathy towards the young Vakronian.

"Jora," her mother scolded sharply. But Elion's smile waxed sincere.

"It's alright, I took no offense. And to answer you, young lady-I meant neither. What I should have said is that it's ironic." His gaze shifted to the head of the table, where Adren sat. "Ironic that _your_ daughter should have one of those...what did you call it? A well-developed sense of curiosity?"

Against her own will, Carmen realized that her regard for the man was changing. Adren chuckled, conceding defeat. "You've got me there, Mr. Elion." He glanced at his daughter fondly. "But I've always believed that there are two things a parent should give their child: one is roots, and the other is a pair of wings."

Carmen felt the weight of someone's gaze. She looked up to find Riker watching her, a small smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. There was a hint of sadness that she couldn't quite grasp. Then she noticed Elion pick up his roll. Kadan perked, his eyes widening with bated excitement.

"Actually...Jora is the reason I'm here tonight," Elion said.

His admission elicited a fair amount of surprise from the other end of the table. "What do you want with my Jora?" Lorana asked. Her face pinched together worriedly.

He opened his mouth to take a bite of the roll, then paused. "I just have a few questions," he assured. "About those fellows that were here earlier. The ones who have up and vanished. They were camped out in the jungle, you know. The jungle that Jora is so familiar with." Finally, he put the roll in his mouth and bit down.

Kadan gripped the edges of his plate, trembling with suspense. Carmen, too, found herself eager for a dramatic reaction. But nothing even slightly dramatic happened. Once Elion finished chewing his food, he set the rest of the roll back on his plate. "Anyways, we can discuss all that later. After we've enjoyed this marvelous dinner you've prepared."

Grumbling in disappointment, Kadan picked up his own roll and shoved it into his mouth. At once, he began to cough and gag. "Kadan! Chew your food!" his mother admonished. The boy pounded his chest, a terrible wheezing sound coming from his throat. Lorana shook her head. "Maybe Mr. Elion was right-we _are_ a primitive lot."

Something fell from Kadan's lump of bread. Carmen stared at it in disbelief. It was half a worm. Somehow, when nobody was looking, Elion had switched their rolls.


	10. Roots and Wings

Weary of company, Carmen made her way to the courtyard once dinner had wound to a close. It was a humid night, with air that drenched her skin like perfume. She leaned against the vine-covered wall, sinking against their soft leaves and breathing in the tranquility around her.

But that tranquility was interrupted when someone opened the door. For a few moments, Carmen could hear a loud clatter from the kitchen and murmurs of after-dinner conversations. Then the door swung closed, and heavy footsteps crossed the porch.

"Hey," the commander said, leaning against a wooden railing that separated the porch from the courtyard.

"Hey," she answered. "I just...I needed some fresh air."

"Fine by me." He sent her a lopsided smile as means of reassurance. "What do you say to a walk?"

She shrugged. "Fine by me." They hadn't spoken much since their fight onboard the Enterprise, and even though he had apologized in his own way, Carmen found that her feelings still needed time to simmer. But maybe, she thought, he had something to say about the mission. "Where's...uh...mom?" Though she had been using that word for several days now as part of their cover, it still felt awkward and foreign in the young woman's mouth.

"She's a little distracted," Riker replied. "Smitten, more like it." He set off down the winding dirt road.

Carmen grinned, falling into step at his side. "Little Wrennie woke up then?" Wren, the youngest of the Perler clan, had Troi wrapped around his fat little finger. It's like her brain would turn to mush at sight of the infant, and she would find every excuse to hold him or dote on him.

Riker shook his head, feigning exasperation. "Yeah. What is it with her and babies?"

"I know, right? They're pretty useless. Especially that one-he cries a lot."

"All babies cry a lot," Riker laughed. "Haven't you been around one before?"

"No." She shook her head. "I mean, some of the recruits were pretty young, but...well, at least they knew how to feed themselves and hold a weapon." Her words had an inadvertent way of dampening the conversation. Riker's smile faded. The humor he had previously found in her reluctance to bond with the Perler children eluded him now. It became suddenly and painfully clear where that reluctance had come from. She was just a kid, too. A kid put in charge of other kids, and then thrown into battles they could not win.

"It wasn't fair," he said softly.

"What?" She looked up at him. "Did you say something?"

"Carmen, there's...there's something we need to talk about." He put a hand on her shoulder, bringing her to a stop. Then he turned her to face him. Her lips pressed together into a pale line as she braced herself for a scolding or a lecture of some kind.

Riker drew in a breath and cast a cautionary glance around. They were alone. "Do you remember everything that happened with Jarat?"

The name pulled a rush of scenes from Carmen's memory. She thought back to their unfortunate run-in with the rogue Klingon, back when she had just come to this universe, back when she was still a stranger to the commander. "Yes," she answered, unsure of why he would bring it up now.

"There were a few days back there when...when we thought you were dead. I couldn't stop thinking about how I should have done something. How I should have...I don't know. Stopped him. But I never did. He went down with his ship, and...it wasn't fair."

Carmen's eyes narrowed. "Wasn't fair?" she scoffed. "Because you're the commander, right? Because you're always supposed to be the hero, the one-man show-"

" _No_ ," he interrupted. Then he clicked his teeth and sighed in frustration. "That's not what I'm trying to say. What I meant was…see...when we first found out who you were, it made me think of everything that I'd missed out on. You know...being a husband, being a father..." His hand returned to her shoulder. "But on that day, when I watched Jarat's ship go down thinking you were still on it, I thought of everything that _you'd_ missed out on. It wasn't fair."

Her jaw clenched. Carmen worried that if she tried to speak, her voice might break. So she remained silent.

"Then tonight, what Adren said...it made me think of your father," he continued. "And I thought, what if that had been me? I mean, it very easily could have. What if I was the one who held a newborn child and gave her life, gave her a name?" He smiled ruefully, the old man's words dancing across his mind. "Roots. What if I gave her roots, but couldn't live long enough to give her wings?"

Her eyes began to shine in the light of the moon, misting over with tears. But still she said nothing, biting down hard on her lip instead. Riker sighed heavily.

"So...I guess what I'm getting at is...you should go out there tonight. Look for that camp Elion was talking about."

" _What?_ " she blurted out.

"I'll go back inside, keep him company. Make sure he doesn't notice you slip off. And Deanna can keep an eye on the others-"

"But I thought you said it's too risky?"

"It _is_ risky." Riker's gaze lifted to the dark and jagged silhouette of the jungle, which cut through the nighttime sky like a knife. "But you're a Starfleet officer. You've been trained to take risks. And this way, if there is a camp, maybe whoever pitched it will be sleeping. Just promise me that you'll be-"

"Careful?" A wry smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "I know. You don't have to tell me."

"-patient." He smiled back at her. "I was going to ask you to be patient with me. I trust you, I'm just...learning how to trust myself with trusting you. Does that make sense?"

She nodded. "I think I get it." Then, quite suddenly, she threw her arms about him. "Thanks. For looking out for me. I'm still getting used to the fact that I can get used to that fact. Does that make sense?"

He laughed aloud. "Yeah, yeah, I think I get it. Well go on and get some supplies together. I better head back up."

Carmen pulled away from him, her face beaming. But as she turned to make for their room, he stopped her.

"Oh and Carmen?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."


	11. A Trail of Stars

The jungle seemed to breathe around Carmen, rising and falling like the bosom of a lover. Loose pollen drifted through the air, floating on an ethereal tide of moonlight. Flowers bloomed along the narrow, beaten path with more colors than Carmen even knew how to name. There were flowers that looked like bells, flowers that looked like birds, and flowers that reminded the young woman of miniature supernovas bursting along the base of trees. Yet at the same time as she marveled at the beauty all about her, Carmen held close the warnings of her Vakronian friend, for she knew that the jungle was an exotic but murderous temptress.

The singing of water reached her ears. She was near the river. The walking path ended on a muddy beach, where she had found Jora washing laundry earlier. Making her way downstream, she found the bend where Jora had indicated it was easier to cross. Sure enough, the water slowed its tumultuous descent, and widened out over a shallow bed of rocks.

Carmen picked her way across, carefully stepping on each slippery stone. The water soaking through her shoes felt refreshingly cold. Still, she found herself missing the protection of her boot soles. _And my pants,_ she thought to herself. As if wearing a gown for Lwaxana's welcome dinner wasn't bad enough, now Carmen was forced to wear a skirt every day of the mission. While women in Almer wore sleeveless tops that were often cut midriff, it was still highly untraditional for a woman to wear trousers or shorts. Instead, they wore skirts comprised of several "fashionable layers." _Fashionable and useless._

Despite her best efforts, the hem of Carmen's skirt had picked up a fair amount of water. It clung to her legs as she pressed onward, no more paths to follow. Remembering Jora's warning about blackweed, she tried her best to keep from shadowy patches and stayed within the blaze of moonlight that cut a swath across the jungle floor.

An ear-splitting shriek pierced the air, giving Carmen a start. Thrice more the beast called. Then, with a great beating of wings, it took flight from somewhere above. Carmen lifted her head, searching for its silhouette. With a faint shudder of awe, she spied a dragon-like shape etched out against the canopy of leaves and stars. It glided on silent wings, a long tail following in its wake. Carmen wondered what sort of diet a brute like that might require.

Suddenly a crashing sound ripped through the jungle behind her. Something was barrelling straight towards the young woman. She slid a knife from the band of her skirt and, gripping it tightly, squared herself towards the oncoming danger. There was no time to run, no time to hide. Swallowing her fear, she braced herself for whatever monster would emerge from the alien dark.

A creature burst through the wall of leaves, landing two paws square on her chest. Carmen fell backwards with a thud that knocked the breath from her lungs. Though the knife dropped from her hand, she made no effort to retrieve it, for she recognized the silver-dappled fur of her attacker.

"Silver, you _k'pekt!_ " she shouted, relieved and annoyed at the same time. "I could've killed you, you know!" She shoved him off and sat up.

The dog wriggled happily, delighted by her attention. Carmen hauled herself to her feet, looking around to make sure the dog hadn't brought anyone with him. "What are you doing out here, anyway? I don't have time for your games. You should go back home, where it's safe." But Silver bounded ahead, pausing here and there to sniff at rocks or crevices. "Hey! Dog! That's the opposite direction of home," she snapped.

Then Carmen realized something curious. Silver seemed to be keeping close to a particular kind of tree, with reddish bark and mossy roots. Dozens upon dozens of little white flowers dotted the moss, glowing phosphorescent in the moonlight with an eerie, almost ghostly shine. They formed a wandering trail across the jungle floor, and it was this trail that the dog followed.

"Alright, alright," Carmen relented. "You can come. But keep quiet."

So dog and girl followed the little white flowers, which looked to Carmen like a trail of stars. They crossed several tributaries, further soaking her shoes and skirt, and through patches of muddy mire. They climbed over fallen trees that lay peacefully in death like forgotten soldiers on an overgrown battlefield. And as the night wore on, Carmen found herself grateful for the dog's company. He seemed to expect nothing in exchange for his companionship, nor did he burden the silence with trivial chatter. There was an inherent safety in his presence, for Carmen knew that she could trust him to steer clear of blackweed and the like. Eventually, the terrain began to slope upward and she realized that they were approaching a ridge that rose in the night like a dull and flat-topped mountain. Shadow Ridge.

"Silver, wait," she called. The little white flowers disappeared up ahead into a clearing of waist-high grass. A massive tree loomed over this clearing and cast shifting patches of shadow and moonlight. Somewhere nearby, she heard the tinkling of a small stream. _A good water source for someone who wanted to pitch camp,_ she mused.

The dog paused, but not at her beckoning. The hair along his back bristled, standing on end. A growl rumbled from deep in his throat. The harrowing sound made goosebumps appear all the way down Carmen's arms. "What is it?" she whispered, creeping closer. Silver's attention was focused on something in the grass, and Carmen could see where it parted. Inching forward, the breath caught in her throat as she discovered a pair of boots.

The boots faced upward, pointing slightly to the side as though someone had fallen asleep on their back. But as the rest of the body came into view, it became apparent that something much more nefarious had happened. Carmen recognized the dull luster of death in his eyes and the waxen look of his skin. His gray tunic was stained with blood, the same gray tunic that Elion had been wearing, with the same strange emblem sewn onto one shoulder. Another agent, no doubt. And while a gun rested near his outstretched hand, no such gun had produced this mortal wound. This man had been killed by an energy weapon.

" _Leave_." A warning drifted across the clearing, chilling her blood.

Carmen crouched. Her hand slid towards the hilt of her knife. "Show yourself!" she demanded, scanning her surroundings for an enemy.

"Leave us alone, or more will die."

The voice sounded masculine, with a youthful timber to it. Though ominous, Carmen felt no malicious intent behind the message. Still, a defensive anger bloomed within her chest. "I'm here for Dr. Gardener," she declared. "So I'm not leaving until I have him."

"Dr. Gardener?" The voice flickered with surprise. "He is safe. Safer than you are."

Silver's barking rang out across the clearing. Carmen realized suddenly that he was no longer at her side. He hopped near the base of the massive tree, trying to reach something perched on one of its lower limbs. And there it was-a small shadow watching Carmen from between the swaying branches.

"Silver! Quiet!" the shadow whispered frantically.

Carmen darted through the long grass. The shadow gave a frightened squeak and then scrambled up further into the tree. Tucking her knife back into the band of her skirt, Carmen leapt towards the closest limb. Once she had gripped it in her hands, she swung one of her legs up, curling it around the gnarled branch. Then she reached for a higher hold.

"Stay away from me! Please!" the shadow begged. A volley of barks nearly drowned out his cries. Carmen pulled herself up onto a higher bough, every muscle straining with intent. _Close. I'm so close._

"I'm not leaving without the doctor," she rasped. "And you're going to take me to him."

The shadow ceased climbing. He held fast to the trunk of the tree, a slight quiver in his breath. "I said please. Now this is your last warning…"

Carmen grabbed hold of the limb that his feet were planted on. But as she began to hoist herself up, a jarring pain jolted through her entire body. Her hands opened, unable to hold on. Branches snapped as she tore through them on her way down. The last thing she remembered was the sound of a sickening thud as her body hit the ground. And then the world went black.


	12. A Gentle Place

**A/N: This is the first time I've been able to log on pretty much since the last chapter I posted. This site's been kind of glitchy lately. Hopefully it's working better for you guys!**

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Carmen groaned. First thing she became aware of was a throbbing headache. She tried to lift a hand to her forehead, but found her muscles stiff and unwilling. The ground beneath her felt cold and hard and unforgiving. But something warm had wrapped itself protectively around her. Silver whined, licking her face to help bring the young woman to her senses.

"Silver?" she rasped. The dog's tail thumped at the sound of his name. Carmen realized that they were lying at the base of a tree, its branches dancing and swaying in a breeze. Piece by piece, memories strung together in her mind. A sudden urgency spurred her muscles into life.

Pushing off the ground, she tried to stand up. Immediately her legs buckled. Silver whined again, dancing worried circles around the young woman. "I'm trying, I'm trying," she grumbled. This time, Carmen held on to the trunk of the tree as she lifted herself. Her vision swam with the effort. Her stomach lurched. Gingerly, she touched the back of her head and discovered a clump of her hair matted with blood. She must have struck something on the way down.

The Vakronian body still lay across the clearing, undisturbed. And there was no sign of the shadow. Overhead, a gray blush to the sky heralded dawn's approach. Carmen cursed herself silently. She had to get back to the inn before anyone could catch her out. "Home, Silver," she ordered, grabbing hold of the dog's leather collar. "Take us home."

The dog set off, with Carmen stumbling to keep up at his side. Her feet still ached from the journey there, and they began to blister as they rubbed against her wet shoes. The little white flowers dimmed in pale morning light, but Silver kept his nose to the ground, relying on his trusty sense of smell. Every minute eked by like a bad dream.

At long last, Carmen heard the rush of the river. They had made it back to its familiar banks. She sank to her knees at the big dog's side. "Thank-you, Silver," she said, burying her face in his fur. His bushy tail wagged wearily. "I promise you this: today, you have made a friend for life." Silver's tongue lashed across her nose and she fell back to the ground with a laugh. "I might be fond of you, but I'm still not fond of your slobber!"

With a pink tongue still lolling from his mouth, Silver bounded across the shallow river. Carmen dusted herself off and followed suit. The water, once refreshing, now felt like ice on her bruised and blistered feet. Her toes went numb and her back ached in a dozen different places. _Just a little bit farther._

A well-beaten path led Carmen to the edge of the Perler's property. Silver broke away from the young woman's side, trotting towards his bed in the barn without so much as a goodbye. Carmen felt a pang of disappointment to be parting company. If it weren't for Silver, she knew that her night would have fared far worse.

Crouching in the treeline, Carmen cast a cautious look around. The lights of the main house were on, but the courtyard lay silent and still, shrouded in pink morning light. The inn, a long row of rooms with little front doors and little porches, showed no signs of life either. No smoke drifted from any of the clay chimneys, no shadows moved behind the window panes. Still, she could picture the commander pacing anxiously back and forth inside their rented quarters. No doubt he was worried by now.

As stealthy as she could, Carmen crept across the open space and up to their front door. After glancing around one last time, she opened it and slipped inside. Warm, dark air surrounded the young woman. It smelled of the stone floor and the cinders in their stove and most of all, it smelled of safety. She leaned her forehead against the closed door, breathing a sigh of relief.

But then, turning around, she made an unsettling discovery. Everything here lay silent and still, too. A momentary panic set in-perhaps they had gone out looking for her? Should she leave, try to find them? Or wait for them to return? And what if they _didn't_ return? What if they had run into that dragon creature, or whoever murdered the Vakronian agent?

Her frantic thoughts were interrupted by a rustling sound. Carmen's attention drew to the side, where a small bedroom branched away from the main living area. She tiptoed towards the archway, holding her breath. But as she reached the corner, all her worries evanesced.

Riker and Troi lay blissfully tangled together on the bed, fast asleep. Troi's head rested atop the commander's chest, her arm wrapped around his waist and the blanket falling just below her bare shoulder. Her long hair fanned out in unruly waves, covering the side of Riker's face. Carmen chuckled softly to herself. They had barely even noticed she was gone. She couldn't help but wonder if the commander had ulterior motives for sending her off on an overnight assignment.

Quietly, Carmen withdrew from the archway. No sense in waking them up just yet. She made her way over to a large washbasin and, leaving the water at a trickle, began to clean herself up. Blood, leaves and grime swirled down the drain. She shivered, wishing that the water had been heated. As she tried to untangle the matted strands of her hair, Carmen realized just how tired she was. Her fingers worked sluggishly, every joint aching with cold and exhaustion. Her mind, too, felt like a candle burning from both ends. But she pressed on with the long, laborious task. It was not the first time she found herself at a long night's end, dressing her wounds with her last ounce of strength. After awhile, the sight of her own jagged flesh no longer alarmed her. The puddles of blood at her feet failed to fill her with fear. For the young woman's battle scars were nothing compared to the marks left upon her soul.

"Carmen?" A soft voice called her name. "Are you alright?"

She looked over her shoulder to find Troi donning a light blue robe. The counselor's eyes widened with concern as she drew closer. "Don't worry," Carmen insisted. "I'm sure it looks worse than it is."

"You're bleeding!" Troi tilted the young woman's chin down, examining the gash across the back of her head. "That's going to need a dermal regenerator. Hold on, there's one in the medkit."

She disappeared briefly, and Carmen could hear her rummaging for the small, hidden case. A weary smile tugged at her lips. Though she felt guilty about having disrupted the counselor's sleep, she also appreciated the company. Her presence seemed to brighten the early morning shadows.

Presently Troi returned. "There. Now hold still," she ordered, taking a seat on a small stool. Carmen sat on the ground in front of her. As the regenerator hummed, her pain ebbed to a dull ache. She eased out a breath and let her eyes wander towards the archway.

 _What's wrong?_ Troi asked. _You are feeling...discouraged._

Carmen winced. _He trusted me. He trusted me, and I...could have been more careful._

 _You made it back in one piece. Well, for the most part._ Troi patted her shoulder reassuringly. _Now show me what happened._

All Carmen had to do was replay the series of events in her mind, knowing the counselor could see everything. She showed her the trail of stars, the dead body, the shadowy figure in the tree. Then she got to the part with her reckless attempt to capture the shadow.

 _Wait-he said Silver's name?_

 _Yes_ , Carmen answered, realizing it herself for the first time. _But...how would he know Silver? Silver is Jora's dog._

 _Maybe he knows Jora, too._

Carmen scoffed at the notion. _That can't be. Jora would have told me._

 _I'm not so sure about that. Jora is loyal, but loyalties can be split. Do you remember when Elion was talking at dinner? Do you remember her reaction when he brought up Shadow Ridge?_

The young woman strained her memory, trying to recall. _She seemed...alarmed, I think._

 _What about when you thought you saw something down by the river? What did she do then?_

Again, Carmen pressed her memory for answers. _Actually, she's the one who suggested it might have been a trick of the light. But why would she…_ The wheels of her tired mind turned slowly. _That traitor! She DOES know something!_

 _Done._ Troi set the dermal regenerator aside. _Now I need to wash your hair. Lean over._

 _How long have you known?_ Carmen asked, leaning her head over the edge of the washbasin.

 _I began to suspect something at dinner. I could sense she was hiding something. But she's not a traitor-she's just a little girl in need of a friend._ Her fingertips worked gently through Carmen's hair, loosening the bloody mats.

 _A friend? There's a dead body out there!_

 _I doubt your shadow was responsible for that. Otherwise he would have killed you, too. I mean, clearly he was armed._

Carmen sulked, strangely wounded at the idea of Jora keeping a secret from her. _And what do we do about Elion? He's going to question her today. He'll get it out of her, too. He's a sharp one._

 _Then you have to make sure she tells you first._

 _How do I do that?_

 _I don't think it will take much. Like I said, she's in need of a friend._

Carmen snorted a short, dry laugh. _What does she need a friend for? She has seven brothers!_

 _And no sisters._

Troi's words gave Carmen pause. She dwelled on them carefully as Troi wrung out her hair and then used a towel to get rid of any excess dampness. "There," she said aloud. "Now let's get you dressed and back in bed."

"Bed? But it's morning already!" Carmen protested. "We have a mission to do!"

"Yes, we have a mission to do. And I need you in top shape to do it. Just relax for a few hours while everyone eats breakfast and finishes their morning chores. I'll tell them you aren't feeling well."

Grumbling, Carmen peeled off her muddy clothes. Troi helped her change into something more comfortable and then guided her over to the couch. Stifling a yawn, the young woman sank back against its cushions. "I suppose I could take a quick nap," she conceded drowsily. Troi smiled, tucking a blanket around her.

Carmen revelled in the gentleness of her hands, as well as the gentleness of her smile. A sense of warmth and safety seeped into her mind, banishing any lingering thoughts about the mission. She looked up at the counselor gratefully. Her presence always felt to Carmen like a gentle place, no matter what planet they were on. "Would you...maybe...stay with me?" she asked. "Just until I fall asleep?"

Troi combed her fingers through the young woman's hair. "Sure," she said. "In fact, why don't we go to the falls? It's been awhile."

"Yeah." Carmen grinned. "I'd like that." Then she closed her eyes, waiting for the counselor to take her to a different jungle. It existed in the space between their Betazoid minds as a refuge for Carmen, back when the ghosts of her past would haunt her sleep. At first it was just an escape. But now, it had come to be a manifestation of Troi's love.

 _Good-night, Carmen._

 _Good-night...mom._

No longer did the word feel awkward and foreign.


	13. Fever

**A/N: Phew, I made it to Thanksgiving break! Sorry this update took so long. Expect the next chapter to be out much sooner!**

 **Zara08-Omg "commander gets commando" made me laugh so hard! Hahaha I love your reviews every time!**

 **Jleto-Aww glad you liked it! I wanted to explore the difference between her relationship with Troi and her relationship with Riker. I'll have to do that more in the future, too :-)**

 **Bnewall1-Yay! Love to hear that you're loving it! I feel like Carmen would accept Troi's nurturing a little more readily. It's gentler in ways than what she's established with the commander.**

 **Jedi Kes Solo-Thanks for your follow and review! Glad you are liking it so far! :-)**

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 _Jora laid on the edge of a flat rock, her fingers reaching down to touch the river as it swirled past. It was a hot day, hotter than any she could remember. But the young girl didn't mind, for she had the river and the jungle and the afternoon all to herself._

" _My clothes are just about dry. What do you say to another swim?" She rolled from her stomach to her back and felt for the big dog at her side. "Silver?" Her hand felt empty space instead. Jora sat up, scanning the riverbanks with a frown. It was unlike him, to wander very far._

 _A flock of birds suddenly crowded the sky, filling the air with a great screeching and squawking. From where they had taken flight, Jora could hear a series of short, urgent barks. She climbed down from the rock and grabbed her shoes. "I'm coming, Silver!" she shouted._

 _Hopping along, she shoved one foot and then the other into her shoes. Low hanging branches snatched at her skirt as she dashed through the jungle. Silver's barking continued to ring out from ahead, guiding her straight towards the distressed dog._

 _At last his dappled fur came into view. Jora found him circling the base of a zossarine bush, whining frantically between barks. "I'm here, boy!" she called. "What is it?" He yipped several times, digging at the purple colored roots. Then he got onto his belly, trying to wriggle beneath the tangle of twisted branches._

" _Silver, no!" Jora cried, hauling him away by his collar. "Don't you see those thorns?" An image flashed through her mind, an unpleasant memory from when she was younger. Silver had spooked a small vermin crossing the trail in front of them. It bolted straight into a zossarine bush. Though Jora tried to cut away at the thorns and help it escape, it had already been speared to death by the time she reached it. She shuddered, trying to cast the memory out. "Come on. If you've chased something into there, then it's probably dead by now."_

" _I'm not dead."_

 _The unexpected declaration sent her heart leaping into her throat. "Wh-what did you say?"_

" _I'm not dead," the voice of a boy repeated. "But I_ _am stuck."_

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Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, leaving a bright yellow square on the floor. Jora plunged her hands beneath the surface of the warm, soapy water. She felt for the edges of a plate and began to scrub it clean. Silver yawned from his place beneath a round table. Then, with a luxurious stretch, he rose and trotted over to the door.

"Need to go outside?" Jora asked. She reached for a towel, but before she could dry her hands off, the door opened. Carmen stumbled in, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the soft kitchen light.

"Jora?" she rasped.

"Good morning!" Jora hailed cheerfully. "Feeling better? Your mom said you had a bout of heat fever."

"Heat fever?"

"It happens to visitors all the time. People aren't used to how hot it gets in Almer. Here, you should sit down." She pulled a stool out from beneath the counter. It had been painted red a long time ago, but the wood showed through in well-worn spots.

Carmen lowered herself onto it slowly. Silver came to her side, resting his head in her lap. "Where uh, where are my parents?" she asked. Though she pretended not to notice the dog, her fingers went under his chin and began to scratch. A rumble of appreciation reverberated from the dog's throat.

"Your dad's helping my dad again," Jora answered. "He was really interested in what Elion said last night. Wanted to go into town later, talk with some of the folks who saw the space rock when it fell. Your mom is around here somewhere, I think."

"Did you see it?"

"What?"

"The space rock?"

"No." Jora paused in front of a cupboard. "It was nighttime, so we were all sleeping."

"But you don't really think it was a space rock. Do you?"

The girl's mind turned to the zossarine bush on that fateful day. So ensnared was the boy, that Jora was unable to glimpse his face until she had already cut him free…

" _Wh-why do you look like that?" she stammered, backing away from the boy she had just rescued with slow, cautious steps._

" _Have you never seen my kind before?" he asked._

" _No! I didn't-I didn't even know there_ was _another kind!"_

" _You mean your people...you've never left this planet?" His facial features wrenched together, bewildered at the notion._

 _Jora shook her head. She watched as Silver sniffed at the boy's wounds, which bled green stains into his clothes. "You're hurt," she noted._

 _He glanced down at the jagged scores on his arm. "It's nothing. But one of the others...he fell ill after touching a strange plant. It was dark and oily looking-"_

" _Blackweed! Oh no." Jora grimaced. "He needs to go to the infirmary right away. I'll get my mother-"_

" _No!" He grabbed her arm before she could dash away. The strength of his grip surprised her, and she froze, mouth still open. Silver growled a curt warning. "Sorry," he said, letting go with a sheepish, apologetic smile. "It's just...please, you must never tell anyone about me."_

" _Why not?" she asked, swallowing a lump of apprehension in her throat._

" _There are people looking for me. People who would kill me if they knew who I was."_

 _Jora studied the boy and his strange face. Alien though it was, she found an earnestness there that felt much more familiar. Her curiosity swelled, overtaking her fear. "Is it because you did something wrong?" she asked._

 _A mysterious sorrow seeped into his eyes. "No," he answered. "It is because we did something right."_

"Jora?"

The girl's hand was still on the cupboard as she stood, steeped in the memories of her strange friend and the day they met. "I'm sorry," she replied hastily. "Did you ask me something?"

"I said you don't believe it was just a space rock, do you?" Carmen repeated.

"Well...like my dad said, they've been known to fall this time of year." Jora opened the cupboard, hiding from the fact that she didn't exactly answer the question. She reached for a plate of bread. "Anyways, are you hungry? I saved you some breakfast."

When she closed the cupboard again, she found Carmen studying her intently. "And...I made you some juice, too. It should help with your fever. I think maybe you didn't drink enough yesterday-it's easy to get dehydrated out here."

For a few moments, Carmen remained silent and aloof. Then, to Jora's relief, a small smile lighted on the corner of her lips.

"What is it?" Jora asked.

The small smile spread into something sincere. "These last couple of days, I've been so...fussed over. I'm not used to it, that's all." She picked up a piece of bread from the plate and began to butter it.

A sudden wail startled Carmen into dropping the bread. Little Wren had woken from his nap in the neighboring room. Jora sighed, grateful for the change of subject. "Speaking of fussing…" she said. "Would you mind getting Wrennie? I have to finish these dishes."

Carmen's eyes widened. "Me?"

"Yeah, just bring him in here. He hates being alone." As Carmen left, Jora returned to the dishes in the sink. The baby continued to cry and cry. Eventually, his cries grew louder and nearer.

When Carmen reappeared, she was holding Wren out in front of her. "Why won't he stop?" she asked, nearly as distraught as the baby.

Jora bit down on her cheek to keep herself from laughing. "You have to hold him close," she said.

"How close?"

"Up against you."

Clumsily, Carmen hugged the baby to her chest. But Wren wouldn't have it. He shoved a little fist into his mouth repeatedly as pearl-like tears continued to stream down his cheeks. "What is he doing? Why is he doing that?"

"It means he's hungry," Jora explained. "Here, sit down again and I'll make him a bottle." She wiped her hands off just enough to fill a bottle of milk. But as she passed it off to the young woman, Carmen merely stared at it helplessly.

"It's alright. Cradle him with one arm-yeah like that! And make sure to tilt the bottle back or he'll swallow a bunch of air and get an upset stomach."

Pursing her lips with concentration, Carmen followed her instructions. Gradually, the baby quieted down. A loud slurping sound followed every gulp of milk. One of his hands reached up, grasping Carmen's fingers as she held the bottle in place. Her brows drew together at the tender, trusting touch. "He's...he's…" She fumbled for the right word.

"Kind of sweet, I know." Jora pushed aside a lock of reddish-gold hair and planted a kiss on the baby's forehead. "Hard to believe the rest of my brothers were ever this innocent!"

She giggled at her own joke. But Carmen didn't seem to hear her, for she was gazing down at the baby in rapt silence. Something soft and strange had come over her.

"Hey um, Carmen?" Jora prompted. "Can I ask you something?"

"Like what?" she responded without looking away.

"How come your parents only had you? I mean, didn't they ever want more children?"

Carmen's face grew somber. Her countenance clouded over in a way that made Jora take pity. "I...never thought about that before," she said, her voice little more than a grating whisper.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Jora folded her arms and looked down at her feet. Several moments of awkward silence ensued.

"Hey, can I ask _you_ something?" Carmen inquired, banishing the silence as well as the awkwardness. When Jora lifted her gaze, she found the young woman studying her again. But there was something gentle behind her eyes this time. "What is it like, having brothers?"

A grin made its way across Jora's face. "They're filthy, they're rude, they boast about the stupidest stuff, they keep bugs in their pockets, they break all the family heirlooms, and-well, I'm pretty fond of them."

Carmen burst out laughing, inadvertently jolting the baby awake. He had just begun to doze off when the bottle slipped from his mouth in surprise. Flailing his arms, Wren belted out a cry of complaint.

"Want me to take him?" someone asked from the threshold. Both girls looked up to find Deanna in their midst.

"Oh! Um, I guess so." Carmen lifted the baby towards her mother, who accepted him gladly. She tucked him into the crook of her elbow as though she had done it a million times before.

"There, there," she crooned, rocking him back and forth.

"Here's his bottle," Carmen offered. "But mind his head. And you have to tilt the bottle back so he doesn't swallow a bunch of air. That'll give him an upset stomach, you know." She hovered protectively over the infant.

Lorana brushed past them, her cheeks flushed and pink from the heat of the day. "I think your mama knows what she's doing," she chuckled, plopping herself onto the stool that Carmen had just been occupying. It groaned a complaint. "In fact, look at that shine in her eyes. She's caught the fever."

"Fever?" Carmen searched her mother's face. "You're feeling ill, too?"

A hearty laugh came from Lorana. "The baby fever, that is," she said. But it didn't seem to clear things up for the young woman.

"You mean the baby's ill?"

Lorana wheezed with laughter all over again. She slapped at her thigh and the stool beneath her groaned a second time. "It's alright, dear," she assured. "You'll understand one day, once you've settled down!" Even Jora found herself laughing at her friend's expense. It was an amusing thought, to picture Carmen as a docile housewife.

A succession of hurried and desperate knocks wiped the grin from Lorana's face. Someone rapped loudly against the front door. She pushed off the stool with a grunt of effort. "Coming, coming!" she called. Jora followed, craning her neck to peer around her mother's skirt.

It was Elion. Yet his affable affect was nowhere to be found. Instead, his eyes were dark and sunken as though he hadn't slept all night. Leaves clung to his mud-splattered clothes. He stared past Lorana and his desperate gaze locked onto Jora in a way that uneased the young girl. "Jora…" he said, panting for breath. "I need Jora. Something has happened."


	14. Compassion and Prudence

**A/N: Looking ahead for a moment...I've been outlining the rest of my plans for this universe, and I realized I can wrap everything up in one more episode. So there will only be one more after this. But I'm always open to doing one-shots, if anyone has any ideas :-). I thought maybe it'd be kind of cool if you had an episode where you always wanted a different outcome or something like that. Anyways, let me know what you'd like to see! I love writing prompts, and any excuse to keep writing. But for now, back to the village of Almer...**

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"Mr. Elion! What happened?" Lorana cried. Carmen sucked in a breath. She could feel his distress grating against her empathic senses. Something had rattled the agent badly.

"It's Durand, my partner," Elion lamented. "He...he never came back last night. I've been searching for him since dawn."

 _The body on Shadow Ridge_. Carmen stole a glance towards Troi. _That must have been him._

"Come inside, come inside," Lorana urged, pulling on his arm. She guided him over to a chair that had been placed at an angle in the corner. "Jora-" she looked around for her daughter. "Fetch him some water, will you?" Dutifully, Jora nodded and withdrew. Once she was out of earshot, Lorana pulled herself up on a padded ottoman. "Mr. Elion," she said. "I'm terribly sorry about your partner. But what does this have to do with my daughter?"

"Hmm?" His mind, fraught with worry, could barely take in the woman's words.

Carmen squared her jaw. "You said you needed Jora," she said, a protective brusqueness in her voice.

"Yes, yes I did..." He combed his fingers back through his hair, which had been slicked down with sweat. "It's because she knows that jungle. She knows that ridge. I'd like to take her back with me."

Fret filled the lines of Lorana's face. "Out there?" she gulped. "I...I don't know. I need to speak with her father first." She gathered her skirt and hastened to her feet. "I'll be right back. Deanna, would you…?"

Troi nodded. "We'll stay with Mr. Elion," she assured.

Lorana left looking as though she were on the verge of tears. Within moments, Jora reappeared. She glanced around the room, taking silent note of her mother's absence. "Here you go," she said, holding out a glass of water to Elion.

"What? Oh, thank you." He took the glass and drank in deep, successive gulps. The refreshment seemed to calm his nerves. Slowly but surely, his distress began to recede from Carmen's senses. She let out a breath of relief. As a child, the emotions of others would easily overwhelm her. While the counselor was working with her to change all that, she still found the intrusion a taxing one.

After passing off Wren to his sister, Troi knelt down and cupped a hand over the agent's arm. "Where was Durand last?" she asked.

Elion slung his other arm off the side of the chair, dangling the empty cup from his fingers. "He said he was going to have dinner at the tavern and then call it a night. I just don't understand. Why would he go off alone? Why would he…" The agent bit his lip, torn between anger and concern.

The counselor's expression softened. She squeezed his arm in a show of support. Carmen knew that her Betazoid mind was far more sensitive, far more sympathetic. No doubt she could feel his pain as if it were her own. But the weight of such raw emotions did not encumber her as it did Carmen. In fact, the young woman often marvelled at Troi's ability to be both compassionate and prudent at the same time.

Elion sent her an appreciative smile. He set the empty glass on the ground and let his hand rest idly over hers. Carmen's lips twitched in contempt.

"One of Keeling's men went missing, too," Elion mused aloud. "I wonder if...I don't know. I wonder if there's a connection."

"Keeling?" The counselor masked her familiarity with the name.

"He and his team posed as officials from the High Court, said they were here to investigate the crash. But we were the only ones sent from Kitadara," the agent explained. "I found their camp and confronted them, and they seemed pretty upset about something. Kept asking me what I did with Gardener, where was Gardener."

Carmen heard Jora gasp at her side. She nudged her sharply.

"What happened to them?" Troi asked, hoping Elion hadn't noticed the girl's reaction.

"There was a scuffle. They got away, and...well, nobody's seen them since. Jora, I've been meaning to ask you-"

Footsteps clattered in the hall, interrupting his train of thought. Lorana had returned with her husband, Adren. Riker followed. At sight of the towering man, Elion pulled his hand back down to his lap and straightened in his seat. Riker's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Dad!" Carmen blurted out. It was good to see him again, she realized. Especially after such a long and disastrous night.

Riker's eyes fell on the young woman. A lopsided smile replaced the suspicion on his face. "Hey," he rumbled. "Feeling better?"

"What? Oh, uh, yeah." No doubt Troi had filled him in on everything. Carmen braced herself, waiting to feel his inevitable disappointment. But to her surprise, she found none. As the commander's arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders, all she sensed was relief-relief that melted into an abiding affection. She smiled and leaned against his side. "I'm feeling much better, actually," she whispered.

Nearby, Adren cleared his throat. "I'm sorry Carmen, but would you mind stepping out?" he asked in a tone more grave than she had ever heard him speak.

Jora balked at her father's request. "But why?"

Her mother took Wren from her arms. "You too, Jora. These are troubling matters. Hardly appropriate for-"

"It's alright, we can handle it," Jora insisted. "We're not scared or anything."

A hint of a smile eased her father's stern demeanor. "I know. But please-step out while we discuss a few things with Mr. Elion."

 _Now is your chance._ Troi locked eyes with Carmen. _Go and speak with her-see if you can find out what she's hiding._

The young woman nodded, pulling herself away from Riker's side. "Come on, Jora," she urged. Jora voiced her displeasure with a groan, but followed her friend away from the group of grim-faced adults nevertheless.

* * *

Stepping outside, Carmen squinted in the bright mid-day sun. A stifling heat wrapped around her body. Insects droned from the shadowy edge of the jungle.

"Can you believe that?" Jora retorted. "Treating us like a couple of...of...kids!" She sat down on the edge of the porch to sulk.

Carmen joined her, reclining onto her palms. "They were just trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"Elion said he wanted to take you back out there with him. It's a dangerous idea, especially now that a government agent has gone missing."

"I can take care of myself, you know."

Carmen laughed wryly, having never been on the other side of that statement before. "I know how you feel. Trust me. But...that's just how it is. A parent's job is to protect their child." Her mind drifted back to her argument with the commander, and when Lwaxana had tried to convince her of the same thing. With another wry laugh, Carmen realized that her grandmother's words had found their way onto her tongue.

A smile flickered across Jora's face, glowing briefly but brightly with a newfound solidarity. As Carmen smiled back, she became aware of a bond that stirred to life like a seed in a deep and wounded place. She winced, reminded of that which had been uprooted. Faces of the fallen came to mind, faces that had once looked at her with the same earnest devotion. Every time she lost another young recruit, she could feel her heart growing a little bit colder, a little bit harder, until any other seeds planted there could no longer thrive.

"Anyways," she said, clearing her throat and trying to clear her mind. "Did you hear what Elion said about that team?"

"Yeah…" Jora's brows knit together. "I guess that thing I found...it isn't _called_ a Gardener, it _belonged_ to a Gardener."

Carmen nodded. "I think you're right."

"What do you suppose they were doing here, anyways? You don't think they were...looking for somebody, do you?"

"Like who?" Carmen stared at her evenly. The girl began to squirm beneath the weight of her secret. So Carmen pressed her a little more. "Jora, have you ever found anything else out there? Elion sure seems to think you know something the rest of us don't."

The girl's lips pulled into a thin line. She reached down, playing with a rock near her feet. "If I told you...you'd keep it a secret, right?"

"That depends. Something bad might have happened to Elion's partner. If what you know could prevent others from getting hurt-"

"He wouldn't hurt anybody!"

Carmen's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Jora grimaced. There was no going back now. "He said they never meant to come here. Their ship had been damaged when they flew past a bunch of space rocks and they crashed. He said they were on the run, that there were people who wanted to kill them."

"Did he say why?"

"No. He doesn't really like to talk about that stuff."

"Do you know where he is? How to find him?" Carmen's head buzzed with questions.

"I'm sorry." Jora grimaced again. "I know they're camped on Shadow Ridge, but he told me not to go up there. Says the others may not be as...understanding."

Leaning forward, Carmen rested her elbows on her knees. "Well what does he look like?"

"He looks...strange. His hair is black and short. His ears are pointed at the tip. And his eyebrows are weird, too. They aren't shaped like ours. They go up, like this." She ran two fingers across her forehead at an angle. "And the weirdest thing of all, his blood is green. I know because he was bleeding when I found him."

Carmen's heart pounded in her chest. She had seen entire battlefields bathed in green blood before, blood that she had helped spill. _It can't be._

"But he's not like the aliens in Kadan's books, I swear. He's nice and he makes me laugh and he...he just misses his home. Do you think Elion would hurt him?"

"What?" Carmen's mind still swirled with the new revelation.

"Elion. Do you think he would hurt him?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "But...I don't think you should tell him."

"Okay." Jora nodded, relieved. "You won't tell anyone either, right?"

"No." This time, she did not answer honestly. She had to tell Riker and Troi as soon as possible. There were Romulans nearby.


	15. Ramifications

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, I just wanted to leave you with something while I finish working on the next chapter, since it still needs a lot of editing :-).**

 **Zara08-I like your ideas! The away mission could definitely be a good one-shot, or even its own episode. As for the other ideas, you brought up some good questions and good scenarios. And there's still room to play them out in this story! I'll be scheming hehehe... :-)**

* * *

Carmen paced the floor of the small living room, wringing her hands so hard that her knuckles cracked. She had just finished relaying the news to Riker and Troi in the privacy of their rented quarters.

"But what would Romulans be doing in Federation space?" the counselor asked, seated on the sofa.

Riker sat beside her, leaning against the cushions with his feet propped up on a small table. He absent-mindedly rubbed Troi's lower back as he mulled over the ramifications. "They were on Zinor, too. During Carmen's last away mission."

"Possibly," Carmen pointed out. "But I still think something else was going on."

"Either way, this isn't good news for Dr. Gardener."

Troi sighed, smoothing out the front of her skirt. "Well, at least Jora's parents were able to talk Elion into leaving her behind. This way, she'll be safe."

"And Elion?" Begrudgingly, Carmen worried about the agent's safety. "What if he ends up like his partner? We should go out there, stop him and anyone else from his team before they-"

"No." Riker said firmly. "No one is going out there with a bunch of government agents combing the jungle. We'll wait until they find Durand's body. If these Romulans are smart, they'll be laying low too."

"I hate laying low." Carmen threw herself onto the couch beside Troi and propped her feet up same as the commander. " _Baka_ I could really use a drink."

"Me too," he concurred. Troi cast them both reproachful looks.

"Wait a minute," Carmen said, bringing her feet back to the ground. "The tavern! Yes, we need to go to the tavern!"

"You just gave up drinking," Troi reminded her.

"No, no, I'm talking about Durand! The tavern was the last place anyone saw him, remember? What if he left because of something he learned, something he found out?"

Riker rubbed a hand through his beard. "She's got a point," he said slowly. "And I was already planning on going into town later."

"See?" Carmen stared at Troi pleadingly. "It works out!"

Troi climbed to her feet, taking a turn to pace the floor. "Do either of you remember what happened the last time we were at a bar together?"

Behind her back, Riker and Carmen exchanged guilty grins. "Okay, how about this," the young woman offered. "What if I give you my word that there won't be any brawls this time?"

"Your word?"

"Yes."

Troi folded her arms. Her gaze slid over to the commander. "And what about you?"

"I would just like to point out that Carmen was the one who started it last time-"

"I said what about _you?_ " Troi repeated with a touch more severity.

Riker cleared his throat. "Okay yeah," he relented. "You have my word as well."


	16. We All Have Our Regrets

**A/N: WIWJ-Your review made me so happy! Glad I put it out there, then. :-) There will be more moments like that, I promise!**

 **Zara08-Hahaha she sure does! I love the idea of her being the mild-mannered one, but also the one who's REALLY in charge lol.**

* * *

Carmen followed Riker and Troi into the village tavern, which looked much more warm and inviting than she had expected. Paintings hung on red and brown walls. Plants filled every corner, overflowing their pots with velvety vines. Murmured conversations drifted from a patio out back, where patrons had gathered to enjoy the coming of evening.

Riker led them to a long and glossy bar and mumbled a few words to the man standing behind the counter. The stools had been padded with brown leather, and like the tables behind them, the wood was adorned with intricate flourishes. Though Carmen tried to appreciate the craftsmanship, she felt like her empathic senses were under assault. Her foot fumbled as she tried to climb into her stool.

"Whoa there," Riker said, catching her arm. "Are you alright?"

"It's...it's too loud in here."

Riker glanced around, confused. It seemed fairly quiet to him.

Troi came around to the young woman's other side, sweeping her raven-dark hair back. "It's the drink. Alcohol has a way of intensifying emotions."

"I never had this problem before. And I've been to _plenty_ of bars," she insisted, ignoring Riker's disapproving scowl.

"You buried your abilities back then. It's probably why you were drawn to places like this, come to think of it," Troi said.

"What do you mean?"

"See, you can never truly bury that sort of thing-it's in your blood. You told me once that you drank in order to forget. But I think you were drinking to remember."

Carmen's gaze drifted into the distance as she carefully considered the counselor's words. In her mind, she saw a dark room and the silhouette of a young man above her. She could still feel his rough, loveless kisses on her lips. His drunken hands wandering across her body. _You're right. I would have done anything to feel again._

Meanwhile, the bartender returned with a plate of hot bread and various jams. Then he filled a wooden mug with ale and set that down as well. Troi watched her daughter softly. "Was that Farrow you were thinking about?"

"Who?" Riker asked through a mouthful of bread.

"No one." Carmen's answer came unduly quick.

But Troi's smile brimmed with compassion. "It's alright to talk about it. We all have our regrets, you know."

"Who's Farrow?" Riker asked again, still confused.

Carmen blew out a deep breath. "Just...some guy I met at a bar once. He had ditched his crew, ditched the war. He tried to convince me to stay, too, but…" Her lips curled into a hollow, mirthless smile. "I had these silly notions of duty and honor. We were all doomed anyways, he argued. Might as well live in the moment."

Riker scoffed. "Don't tell me you fell for _that_ old line."

"Weeeell..." She grinned sheepishly. "It didn't sound so bad after a few drinks."

"You know what a young man told me once?" Troi said, reaching for the bread and jam. "He said the moon was jealous of me, and that even the stars looked different to him after laying eyes on my beauty."

"What is that nonsense?"

Riker puffed his chest out indignantly. "It's poetry! The language of romance."

After glancing between him and the counselor several times, Carmen burst out laughing. "It was _you_ , wasn't it?"

"Sure was! And it worked, too."

Troi rolled her eyes at him. "At least for awhile."

As Carmen's laughter trickled off, a smile lingered behind on her face. "So why did you guys break up? You never told me what happened."

"We didn't break up. Not exactly," Troi replied. "See, he was supposed to meet me on Risa six weeks after shipping out with the Potemkin. But he never showed."

"I stayed behind for a promotion," he explained. Then he nudged the young woman's shoulder with his. "I guess I had these silly notions about duty and honor, too."

Her smile softened. "Well I'm glad you came to your senses."

"My mother is relieved as well," Troi said. "She tried to warn me about Will back then. Tried to tell me he was one of those career-driven young officers. And she's almost always right about people."

"I wonder what she thinks about Sheppard," Carmen mused aloud, her eyes sparkling at mention of the young man.

"Hey, tell me-" Riker leaned his elbows over the edge of the counter. "What was _his_ pickup line?"

"I think he said sorry."

His brows drew together, puzzled. "Sorry for what?"

"For kissing me."

"For-for-!"

Troi laughed at Riker's angry sputtering. "I think that's pretty sweet, actually."

"Yeah well," the commander retorted. "I think that's pretty brazen. Especially for someone whose future promotions have to go through me."

Carmen laughed in good stride. She looked up at the faces of Riker and Troi, basking in their company. For a few minutes, she had forgotten about the assault on her senses. She had even forgotten about the mission. But as the hour grew later and later, the young woman's sense of duty and honor returned. She reached for the wooden mug.

"Don't even think about it," Riker warned, pushing it out of the way.

"But-"

"We just talked about this! You and alcohol don't mix."

"One drink? Please? Come on, one drink won't hurt-" She reached for it again.

" _Carmen Riker_."

She groaned, crossing her arms atop the counter. "Well let's get on with things then. Where should we start?"

The commander lowered his voice, shifting to a more business-like demeanor. "We need to strike up as many conversations as we can. Find out who was here last night." He picked up the mug and held it to his lips as he scanned the room. Then he paused, his eyes landing on a familiar face. "Hey, isn't that-"

"Mr. Will!"

Carmen turned in her seat to see a young man about her age making their way towards them. She recognized Tarron, the eldest of the Perler brothers. He had his mother's red hair and his father's long chin, though he was taller and leaner than them both. Carmen vaguely remembered something about him working long hours in town to help make ends meet.

"Tarron, good to see you!" Troi greeted. "We missed you at dinner last night."

"Yeah, I'm real sorry about that. I usually miss dinners at home, with work and all. Hello, Carmen."

"Hey." She returned the greeting without any of the enthusiasm.

"Is it true, about Elion's partner? He's gone missing?"

Riker nodded. "It is, unfortunately."

"He came around, asking for volunteers to go searching. But that emblem on his uniform...well, it's hard to ask for favors while wearing that thing."

Troi tilted her head. "Why's that?"

"Kitadara's always sending out people to boss us around. They think we can't handle our own affairs."

"So if he came in here, think he'd get much service?" Riker asked.

Tarron laughed wryly. "Not _good_ service, anyway. But who knows. In a place like this, there's always a few souls willing to lend their company. Take Old Camus over there." He nodded towards a man at the end of the bar who looked older than dirt. "Friendly guy. Kind of...eccentric. I don't know if it's from too much sun or drink or what. But he's harmless, really."

"Camus, huh…" Riker's eyes locked on to the old man.

"Well, I'm supposed to meet some friends of mine for Paupers and Princes. Sorry again for missing dinner."

"Hey Tarron," Troi said as the young man started to leave. "Carmen's been wanting to learn how to play that. Would you mind if she tagged along?"

Carmen froze. _What? What are you doing?_

"Oh, you've never played before?" he asked. "It's my favorite card game. I'd be happy to teach you."

"Oh. Great." _No. Not great._

 _We need to strike up as many conversations as we can,_ Troi reminded her. _We'll talk to Camus; you go talk to Tarron's friends, find out if any of them were here last night._

 _How can I concentrate on a card game right now?_

 _Just try your best to remember what we've worked on. And what we're here for._

Reluctantly, Carmen climbed down from her stool and followed the young man to the back of the tavern. They passed under an archway and found themselves on a stone patio awash in purple evening light. Torches flickered from tall, wooden posts. A few dart boards had been set up, as well as a handful of round tables for drinking or card games. One group of men was rowdier than the rest. They chanted a strange word over and over again while three of their companions chugged their drinks.

"Hey-" Carmen tugged on Tarron's arm. "What are they doing over there?"

"Over there? Oh, they're just playing Glugg."

"Glugg?"

"Yeah, it's a stupid game. A drinking game."

Despite his dismissive attitude, her interest piqued. "What kind of drinking game?"

"One person spins a coin, and the others have to finish their pints before the coin falls. Whoever doesn't finish has to top off their drink and go again."

"Huh…" One of the players slammed an empty glass on the table triumphantly. His friends whooped in drunken glee, but the victory was short-lived. He hiccuped once and then crumpled to the floor, passed out cold.

Carmen eyed his empty glass on the table. It had been so long since she felt the soothing numbness of a drink. Her mind clamored for relief, for something to help drown out the barrage of emotions from the other patrons. _One drink, that's all. Just one round. How hard could it be-it's just a pint, for crying out loud. Maybe it'll even help them warm up to me. Get them talking._

"Wait-where are you going?" Tarron said as she made her way towards the raucous group of men.

"Be right back," she called over her shoulder.


	17. When Push Comes to Shove

**SeverusSnape'sLove-Yay! So glad to hear it! I'll definitely keep updating regularly. Thanks for following along! :-)**

 **Zara08-Hahaha, your reviews are always the best! :-p**

* * *

As Carmen picked up the empty glass, the revelry died down. All around her, she could feel the mood change. Some gaped at her with curiosity. Others were far more aloof. And a few-especially the one with shoulder length dark hair-had much more lewd thoughts upon sight of the young woman. He sidled up to her, standing uncomfortably close. "The name's Davar," he grinned. "And who might you be?"

"I'm...taking his place," she said, jerking her head towards his unconscious companion.

"You're-?" He laughed incredulously. "You know this isn't murberry juice, right?"

A few snickers drifted up around them. But a cold smile crept across Carmen's face. "Was that supposed to be clever? Because I haven't had enough to drink yet to find you very amusing. Or good-looking."

The snickering from his friends exploded into jeers of laughter. The young man's lips all but disappeared as he pursed them together tightly.

"Now come on," Carmen said, banging the empty glass against the table as if it were a gavel. "Let's get on with this. There's hope for you yet."

Both of their cups were filled with a round of cheers. As a mousy-looking man balanced a coin atop the table, the others began to chant. "Glugg! Glugg! Glugg!" A flick of his finger and the coin danced away, spinning so fast that it turned into a golden blur.

Carmen tilted her head back. _Hello old friend_ , she thought as the familiar burn reached her throat. Despite the pungent smell, it tasted sweet and syrupy. A couple of streams ran down the sides of her face and to the floor. The chanting grew louder, quickening as the coin began to lose momentum. She gulped and gulped until it felt as though she would drown. At last, the final drop slid onto her tongue.

"Done!" she declared, slamming her glass onto the table. Her competitor finished a second behind, just as the coin fell flat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sneered.

"Looks like a draw."

"I finished first," she pointed out. Then, quite suddenly, her knees turned to rubber. She reached for the edge of the table and gripped it tightly. _That's some strong stuff. Either that or my tolerance isn't what it used to be._

"What's the matter? A little dizzy?" Davar taunted.

"I was wrong…" Carmen pushed off of the table, trying her best to straighten up. "You're actually _less_ amusing after a drink. And a whole lot uglier."

His face ruddied furiously. "Rematch!" he roared. Then he jabbed a finger at her chest. "I bet you won't even be standing by the time that coin falls."

She patted his cheek with a drunken smile. "Watch me."

The crowd murmured eagerly, pressing in closer around them. A pitcher passed from hand to hand until it reached the man on Carmen's left. She held out her glass, but as she did so, someone pulled her arm back down.

"Come on," Tarron urged. "Let's get you back inside."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "One more round, that's it."

Davar came around, wedging himself between the two. "Tarron? Is that you?"

Tarron moved back a step. "I don't want any trouble, Davar," he said. "I'm just trying to get her back to her family."

"She's perfectly fine!" Davar waved his hand. "Now why don't you get back to _your_ family. How many brothers do you have again? Ten? Twenty?" He turned to their audience. "His parents breed like vermin, this one."

The crowd hooted and hollered. Tarron's jaw clenched, but he remained silent and in control. So Davar tried again.

"Wait a minute-you have a sister too, don't you? What was her name again?"

Carmen seethed, loathe to hear him bring up the young girl. Tarron's cheeks began to color with the same protective anger. "Don't you talk about Jora," he growled.

Davar grinned, delighted by their reactions. He had found the right button to push. "Jora, yeah. She's a real wild one, isn't she? I heard your mother's been having difficulty taming her."

Carmen wanted to knock that smirk right off his face. But even through the alcoholic fog in her mind, she remembered her promise to Troi. The threat of the counselor's disappointment in her was enough to stay her fists. "Let's go, Tarron," she said, shouldering Davar out of the way. "He's not worth it."

"Don't worry about Jora," Davar called as they began to walk away. "Another couple of years, and _I'll_ make a woman out of her."

Tarron halted. A blaze of anger burned into Carmen's senses. Before she could stop him, he spun around and charged at the smug young man. Catching him around the middle, he sent them both hurtling to the ground.

* * *

"And that's when I decided never to wear yellow again." The old man with a bald, sun-speckled head clanged his spoon against the side of his plate, tolling the end of his tale. Riker stifled a yawn, weary of the man's company.

"That's-that's very interesting, Mr. Camus, but I-"

"Your wife sure is a beauty. How did you manage that, eh?" He chuckled (or maybe coughed, Riker couldn't quite tell) and nudged the commander in the ribs. "I had to ask my wife fourteen times before she'd marry me. Bless her soul. 'Camus,' she used to say. 'You're as ugly as a Grolese in molting season.'"

"Yes, well I think it's time we-"

"Say, that reminds me-that feller in here yesterday was asking about the Grolese. You probably ain't seen nothing like it, being from Ebon Plains. You did say Ebon Plains, right?"

Riker paused. "What uh, feller?"

"He didn't want to talk at first, but that old bird seemed to change his mind. And by 'old bird' I mean the Grolese, not me." He slapped the commander's shoulder and made a wheezing sound. Riker was certain this time that it was supposed to be a laugh.

Troi giggled, pretending to be charmed by his sense of humor. "Oh, Mr. Camus. You sure know how to make someone laugh. Could you tell me more about the Grolese? I've never seen one before."

His smile reached all the way up to his eyes. "There only _is_ one. Been here since I was a boy. Since my grandpapa was a boy, even. No one really knows how old he is. But you'll have to come back in a few months if you were hoping to see him."

"Why's that?"

"He sleeps all summer long. Way up on that ridge out there. Me and my brother, we used to dare each other to climb up and find his nest. But we was always too scared."

"Why would you be scared of an old bird?" Riker asked.

"If you saw him, you'd know. He's a big feller. Big as a-"

He was interrupted by some kind of ruckus. Belligerent shouting filled the air as a brawl made its way in from the patio. Riker and Troi exchanged a glance. "That's it," the commander muttered, climbing out of his seat. "When we get back, she's grounded for a _month_."

* * *

As Tarron and Davar exchanged blows, the crowd surged around them. They whooped and hollered, lusting for violence. Carmen found herself being pushed aside in all the chaos. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to leap into the fray. Besides her promise to Troi, she knew that they didn't want anyone questioning where a young lady learned to fight like that.

At least Tarron was faring well for himself, she noticed. He had Davar flattened onto his back and was doling out blow after blow of sweet justice. Then one of Davar's cronies turned the tide. He picked up a chair and brought it crashing down over Tarron's head.

"Tarron!" The young man's friends, who had been watching everything unfold from the card table, leapt up and went rushing to his defense. An all-out brawl ensued.

Carmen groaned inwardly. _I'm going to get blamed for this, I just know it._ She started to shove her way through the horde, making it back to where she had left Riker and Troi.

She hadn't made it very far when someone grabbed her around the waist. "Not so fast, lady!" they jeered, throwing her up against the wall. It was a member of Davar's pack. His breath smelled of ale as he thrust his face next to hers. "Wouldn't want you getting hurt or anything. Why don't we go somewhere safer, somewhere a little more...private." He grinned at her suggestively while one of his hands strayed towards her skirt.

She snarled, enraged. But then, as she caught sight of something behind him, her lips pulled into a sly smile. "I'm sure _he'd_ love to take you up on the offer."

"He?" the man repeated. Suddenly, he was yanked off his feet and thrown through the air. As soon as he landed, Riker was upon him again. Carmen watched his demise gleefully, though somewhere deep inside she felt a small pang of pity for the man. He didn't stand a chance against the raging tower of paternal wrath.

"Carmen!" Troi's call rang out over the violence.

She looked around and found the counselor standing near the bar, her face taut with worry. "Coming!" she cried, weaving her way through the mess best she could with knees that still felt like rubber.

Once Carmen was clear, Troi sighed with relief. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. And hey-I kept my promise! Can't say the same for dad, though. I think he just killed a man."

Their attention returned to the scene. Three of Davar's friends had decided to try their luck with the commander. But as Riker twisted the first one's arm behind his back and sent him catapulting into the crowd, all three began to regret their decision.

"I could help him out," Carmen offered.

"Nah. Let's not spoil his fun," Troi quipped.

Riker's other two assailants were making an admirable effort. Still, they were no match for the Starfleet commander. After leaving them with a few new bumps and bruises, Riker made his way towards Tarron. Davar had gotten the upper hand at some point. He straddled the Perler boy, his fists raining down as Tarran tried to shield himself with his hands.

Riker lifted Davar into the air, scruffing him like an unruly puppy. Then he slammed his face against the nearby wall. "Are you done?" he growled. "Or do I need to wrap things up for you?"

Davar struggled for a moment, hanging from the commander's grip. But upon noticing the size and strength discrepancy, he thought otherwise. "No, no-I'm done!"

"Good. Now get the hell out of here." He tossed Davar to the side. The young man landed in a humiliating heap. The others trickled out ahead of him, limping along in a bedraggled line of defeat.

Tarron flashed the commander a bloody smile. "Thank-you, Mr. Will," he said, trying to pull his knees beneath him. Two of his friends hurried to his side and helped him stand up the rest of the way.

"Let's just get you home and cleaned up. What happened, anyway?" Riker asked, joining his family once again.

"Oh, it was nothing. Just...Davar being Davar," Tarron replied.

"Yeah, it's all Davar's fault," Carmen chimed in. "If he hadn't run his mouth about Jora…" Riker took hold of her chin, examining her face for any bruises. "I wanted to hit him, you know. But I didn't. I didn't hit anyone, in fact. Honest!"

His brows drew together suspiciously, but instead of pressing her for more details, he waved the bartender down. "Could I get a glass of water for my daughter?"

"Sure thing," the bartender said, filling a glass right away. He came out from behind the counter and handed it to Riker.

"I'm fine," Carmen insisted. "Really. I don't need any-" A wave of cold water hit her in the face. She cried out in dismay, rubbing droplets from her eyes. "Wh-what was that for?" she spluttered.

"To help you sober up."

"I _am_ sober!" she cried. "Well...sober enough."

Riker spun her around by the shoulders and gave her a little shove towards the door. "Home. Now."


	18. Ready or Not

**A/N: Yay I'm so glad you guys enjoyed that last chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it. And it always makes my day to know when someone had fun reading it, too. I really appreciate those of you who have been following along and/or reviewing. I know I'm far from perfect, and sometimes I look back at a chapter and just see all the ways it could have been better. But you guys have been very gracious and kind. Just wanted to take a minute to say thanks. :-) Okay, okay, sorry for getting all mushy. On with the story...**

* * *

As they walked home together-Troi helping a battered Tarron and Riker keeping an eye on a drunken Carmen-the commander noticed that something seemed off. It made him feel strangely uneasy, though he couldn't quite place what was wrong.

Carmen stumbled over a rock in the path suddenly, swearing under her breath. Riker grabbed hold of her arm until she could regain her balance. "Watch it! How much have you had to drink?"

"It was just a pint," she grumbled. "And why is it so dark out here? Can't see where I'm walking."

"Where did you get a pint from?"

"They were playing this game...something called Chug, I think."

"Glugg," Tarron corrected. "Davar and his friends like to play. They mostly use it as an excuse to get drunk."

Riker shook his head. "And you just couldn't resist, could you?"

Troi looked at the commander over her shoulder. _Go easy on her,_ she said, speaking into that sacred place where their minds touched. _She's still learning to cope with her Betazoid abilities. And she's right-it is dark out here, isn't it?_

Then Riker knew what had been bothering him. It was the moonlight-or rather, the moonlight's conspicuous absence. Never before had he seen the village shrouded in such darkness. He looked up to find great black clouds, like ships, sailing across the canvas of night. They blotted out the moon and the stars like ink to the paper.

Tarron followed his gaze. "The Drums are coming," he remarked.

"Drums?" Troi repeated.

"Summer storms. They come every year."

Carmen eyed the sky nervously. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, not usually. The river will flood its banks, but our house and the inn will be safe. Wait- _the river!_ " His voice rose with concern.

"What about it?" Carmen's foot struck another rock, but this time she caught herself. Then she glanced quickly at the commander as if to say, _See? I'm fine._

"Well it also floods the highway every year, just north of town. If you don't leave for Kitadara by morning, you'll have to wait a whole week."

A wrinkle of concern sat above Troi's brow. _Ready or not, looks like it's time we located the missing doctor once and for all._

 _Yes,_ Riker agreed. _And the Romulans_.

* * *

A cheerful glow emanated from the windows of the main house. In the barn, too, a small light flickered from the loft. "That'll be Jora," Tarron explained. "She likes it up there for some weird reason."

Carmen's face drew serious, sobering in more ways than one. "I think I'll go see her, say hello. Or rather...goodbye."

Troi nodded. "Take your time. We'll meet you back at the room." As the young woman trudged off, Riker felt a swell of sympathy rising in his chest. For all her reticence, Carmen always managed to get attached. More than she'd care to admit.

Tarron went on ahead, pushing the front door of the main house open. Right away, Riker could hear Lorana's cry of surprise. "What in the name of all seven deities happened to your face?"

"I'm alright!" he insisted, throwing his hands up as she charged at him from her armchair in the corner. She swatted his hands aside and examined him thoroughly, with much clucking and fretting.

"Was it that Davar boy again? Was it?" she demanded.

Tarron winced as she turned his bruised face this way and that. "Yes, mama."

She clucked even more furiously. "Why do you listen to him? His words mean nothing. Nothing at all."

"He was going off about Jora!" Tarron's defiance flared at the memory, then simmered quickly in the wake of his mother's icy stare.

"No son of mine will be returning fists for words, you understand me? Now go into the kitchen and wash your face. I'll be right in to fix you up."

"Yes, mama."

Baby Wren stirred from a blanket on the floor. The harshness of his mother's voice had unsettled him, and he began to wail with the loudest sound his lungs could produce.

"I'll take him," Troi offered, arms already outstretched towards the infant.

"Of course you will," Riker quipped.

Lorana turned his direction at the sound of his voice. Her jaw dropped open. "Mr. Will! You're bleeding!"

"I am?" He glanced down to see a crimson stain seeping into the shoulder of his tunic. Shards of glass, caught between the threads, glinted in the lamplight. "Oh. Must have been from that bottle."

"What bottle?"

"The one someone hit me with," he laughed.

But Lorana paled. "Don't tell me it was because of Tarron."

"It's alright, he only needed a _little_ help." He tried to reassure her with a smile, but she was no longer looking at him. She glowered in the direction her son had shuffled off, and Riker swore that the very paint on the wall blistered beneath her glare. "Really, it wasn't a big deal," he insisted. "Just a scuffle, that's all. You know how boys are."

"Yes," Troi interjected, rocking Wren against her chest. "They're very reckless, aren't they? Brash. Cocky. Can't take them anywhere." _And you wonder where Carmen gets it from,_ she added silently. The commander wrinkled his nose at her, but she merely giggled, delightedly smug.

Lorana cracked a small grin. The gibe had succeeded in cooling her wrath. "Yes, well, have a seat," she ordered. "Let me just make sure it's nothing serious."

He did as he was told, slipping his tunic up over his head while he sat on the edge of the armchair. Lorana swooned, momentarily forgetting how to speak. "Well?" Riker prompted. "How is it?"

"How-how is what?" she stammered.

"The cut."

"Oh!" Her cheeks turned a fierce shade of red. "It uh, it's going to need some cleaning to get all the glass out. Tarron's probably got the basin filled by now. I just have to...Wrennie needs to..."

Troi waved her off. "Don't worry, I've got him. I'd...I'd like to spend some time with him, anyway, since we're leaving in the morning."

Lorana frowned. "You are?"

"The Drums," Riker explained. "We'll have to leave early, I'm afraid. While the road is still good."

"Ah." Her hands clasped together in defeat. "Well, you've been a delight. All of you. And if you ever find yourself coming back this way…we'd love to have you again." She swallowed and then smiled at Riker, an unusually bashful gesture. Lorana wasn't the type to get emotional, he could tell. But her sincerity in the moment moved him. "Now come. Let's get you fixed up and then I'll pack some food for your trip."


	19. Silence

**A/N: Next chapter is already written, going to edit it tonight and post it tomorrow :-)**

* * *

With leaden feet, Carmen reached the barn door. Before pushing it open, she cast one final glance towards the main house. It stood before the sky, gray against black. Warmth spilled from its windows, creating yellow pools of light in the courtyard. A wind picked up, whistling over the hilltop and kicking dust at the little wooden porch. Carmen felt the pang of something missing as she stood alone, a silhouette of gray against a different kind of darkness. She would never know a home like this, with a porch and a courtyard and walls-walls overflowing with such warmth that it poured into the night outside.

Life on a starship was far more exciting, she tried to tell herself. But the young woman had taken an unexpected comfort in the mundane, a solace in the lack of silence. With a bitter taste in her mouth, she recalled the silence that blanketed every battle's end. The silence that followed her back to empty barracks and empty beds, too small for her Klingon counterparts. The silence that haunted her soul even now.

Carmen pushed the heavy door aside, suddenly finding herself in need of Jora's idle chatter. "Hello?" she called. From somewhere up above, a small voice answered her.

"You're back!" The head of a young girl poked over the edge of the loft, her short, auburn hair swinging beside her face. "Come up here and see what I'm drawing!"

Though the barn was dark, light from Jora's lantern touched the edge of a rickety old ladder. As Carmen climbed it carefully, a cozy scene came into view. Jora sat on a blanket surrounded by hay bales, a pad of paper in her lap and a stick of charcoal in her left hand. Silver lay stretched out beside her. His tail thumped a lazy greeting as Carmen approached.

"You like to draw?" she asked, squinting to better see the image scratched out across the paper's surface.

Jora shrugged. "It's something to do until the Drums blow over. What did you think of our village?"

"Oh, I liked it," Carmen replied. "We had a great time. Or at least my dad did." After chuckling at her own private joke, she nodded towards the paper. "Hey, is that...is that _me_?"

"Yeah!" Jora held it up proudly. "See? Sorry about your face, though. I don't really think your nose looks like that."

Carmen took hold of the pad for a closer look. She pored over it thoughtfully, examining every detail, every line. In the drawing, she stood at the river's edge with one foot propped up on a rock in a stance that reminded her of the commander. _Do I really do that, too?_ Jora had sketched Silver at her side. Though the big dog gazed up at her raptly, the young woman's attention was off in the distance, her lips set in somber determination.

"You like it?" Jora held her breath, anxiously awaiting her friend's approval.

"This is really something," Carmen said, still tracing her eyes over the strokes of charcoal. "No one has ever drawn my picture before. I feel very...honored. Would you show me more of your drawings?"

Jora beamed bright as the sun. "Sure!" She scooted closer, and as she prattled on, Carmen felt as though the warmth she had seen pouring from the windows of the main house had spilled over into her very soul.

"Wait a minute-what's that?" Carmen asked as they neared the end of the sketch pad. She recognized the silhouette of a winged beast flying through the nighttime sky. Its long tail swung out behind it, blotting out the stars, and an equally long neck stretched towards the jutting end of Shadow Ridge.

"That? Oh, that's the Grolese," Jora explained. _The Grolese!_ This was the dragon-like creature she had glimpsed the other night? This was what Elion's partner had been asking about just before he was killed?

"You've seen it yourself?" Carmen asked, trying not to appear overly interested.

"Sure."

"Was it scary?"

"The Grolese? No!" Jora laughed. Carmen's face pinched together, puzzled by the girl's answer.

"But he looks...big."

"He _is_ big. Can you imagine how much gisbi fruit he has to eat in a single day?"

"He eats fruit?"

"Yup. Mostly the stuff that grows way up high, up in the treetops. Don't tell my brothers, though-I told them he eats little boys who don't listen." She giggled, rather pleased with herself. "Not many people have seen him, you know. But _I've_ seen him. I know where his den is, too!"

"Where?" Carmen asked, inching closer without even realizing it.

The young girl jabbed a finger at the drawing. "Right there, on the side of Shadow Ridge." Carmen held her hand out, and Jora gladly gave her the pad of paper. "You really like that one, huh?" she said. "Well...you can have it. If you'd like."

Carmen tore her eyes away from the drawing. "What?"

"The drawing. You can take it with you."

"I can?" Carmen smiled. She liked the idea of keeping the picture. If nothing else, it would serve as a reminder of the girl who could fill the silence, in turn filling a void. "That would be wonderful. I will cherish this, always."

As Jora carefully ripped the page from its binding, the door to the barn burst open all of a sudden. A rally of shouts filled the air as though they were under attack by a whole army. Bewildered, both girls crawled to the edge of the loft and peered down. It _was_ an army-an army made of rowdy little brothers.

"Up there!" Tern bellowed. "There's the alien!"

A small thump knocked against the inside of Carmen's chest. "Wh-what did you say?"

"You! You're the alien!" he cried, and then he and his brothers swarmed the bottom of the ladder.

Jora sighed peevishly. "They're playing Aliens and Rangers again," she explained. "Last time I was the alien, they tied me up until I would confess to all my crimes against Vakrona."

Tern was the first to reach the top. He pointed some sort of weapon fashioned from sticks at Carmen's face. "Halt, alien!" he ordered. "Or I'll shoot!"

"She isn't playing!" Jora said, folding her arms in a huff. "And neither am I. Go bother someone else."

The excited cries died down. Tern's shoulders drooped glumly. "But...it's her last night," he protested.

Carmen winced. She had meant to tell Jora sooner. She _should_ have told Jora sooner. "He's right," she admitted. "We have to leave in the morning. It's...it's why I was looking for you."

"Oh." Jora looked like she was going to say more, but nothing came out. Carmen's heart crumbled. She couldn't even console her with a promise to return one day. This was goodbye, plain and simple and forever.

The boys began to climb back down the ladder, just as dejected as their sister. Silence crept into the barn, squeezing between the rafters and pressing around Carmen with its stifling emptiness. "Wait!" she cried out.

From the children, she felt a flicker of hope like the strike of a match. Their eager gazes turned towards her.

"Your crew..." she said to Jora. "They are too late, I'm afraid."

Jora wrinkled her brow. "My crew?"

"That's right, Captain Jora. See, they have come here to rescue you. But I have already turned you into a brain-eating alien, just like me. And together, we will take over all of Vakrona!"

Tern's face lit up once more. He stepped away from the ladder and the others jostled around him with excited murmurs. "What should we do?" a little one asked.

"Yes, Commander Tern," Carmen taunted. "What will you do? I've got your captain!"

Slowly, a smile spread across Jora's face. "And we will make brain-eating aliens out of all of you!"

The little ones squealed in fright, but Tern held his ground. "Get them!" he roared, leading the charge. Belting out their best battlecries, his brothers followed suit. Carmen crouched on the edge of the loft, biding her time. Then, just before they could capture her, she leapt to freedom. Her would-be captors paused, watching in awe as she curled her body into a shoulder roll at the bottom. "Quick! After her!" Tern ordered, shoving his brothers towards the ladder.

Time and again, Carmen would let them come close only to deftly dodge their advances. She'd launch herself over them or under them. She'd swing from the pulley ropes and dance along the edge of empty stalls. She'd snatch the boys one by one and carry them up to the loft, where Jora held them prisoner. Eventually, Tern was the only one left.

"Aha!" Carmen exclaimed, backing him into a corner. "What now, Commander Tern?"

He laughed brazenly in the face of defeat. "You forgot about my secret weapon!"

"What secret weapon?"

"Something all Vakronians used to fear. But alas, we have tamed the silver wolf! Now prepare to meet your doom!" He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

Silver came bounding over, delighted by all the ruckus. He barrelled straight into Carmen and they sailed to the floor together. "Nooo!" she cried as she was buried beneath a furry pile. "I am finished!"

"And we are free!" Jora shouted, climbing down from the loft with her brothers to celebrate the victory.

Carmen pushed herself halfway up, laughing as she wiped Silver's slobbery kisses from her face. "And henceforth, the Battle of the Wolf will always be remembered!"

 _At least by me._ For this battle ended in laughter, not silence. Laughter that would resonate in her soul for a long time, deep down in a place where only silence once abounded.


	20. Seven

When Troi awoke, a dull gray light filtered through the crack in the curtains. She lifted her head from Riker's unclothed chest, a sheen of sweat left behind from the press of her cheek. Her imzadi's mind was far away, wrapped in slumber, but still his hand rested on the small of her back to hold her close. Raindrops pattered against the window, fogging the glass. The Drums had begun their ancient song.

 _Imzadi…_ She tugged gently on his thoughts. He stirred once, then lay still again. _Imzadi, it is time. Wake up._

His hand drifted up her back to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Morning already?" he yawned.

"Almost. We should get going."

"Yeah, we should." He swept her long, dark hair across her back. "I'm looking forward to finishing this mission. Then we can get on with our other plans."

"You mean the wedding?"

"I mean the honeymoon." A smirk hid in the corner of his mouth. He sat up just enough to reach her lips, taking his time once he got there.

She smiled as their kiss drew to an end. "Well, I hope you weren't planning on a lot of sight-seeing."

The smirk leapt full across his face. "I wasn't even planning on leaving the room!" He pulled her down for another kiss, which turned into several.

"Alright, alright," Troi laughed, breaking away. "That's enough of that. We aren't alone, remember." Peaceful waves from Carmen's sleep broke gently against the shores of her Betazoid mind. The young woman had come in late last night. Thinking Riker and Troi were asleep already, she curled up on the couch without a word. Yet Troi could feel the heaviness of her heart. She hovered, hidden, over Carmen's thoughts in case the nightmares should return. But they never did.

"Oh yeah," Riker said, shifting his gaze to the darkened archway. "I'll bet she's looking forward to being done with this mission, too."

"Actually, I don't think so." Something bittersweet laced Troi's smile.

Riker glanced at her quizzically. "What are you talking about? You know how Carmen is-all work and no play. Unless drinking is involved. Those kids have been driving her up the wall."

"That may be, but she's still a child herself in many ways. She just hasn't been allowed to act like one. "

Riker nodded slowly. It was easy for him to forget. There was an adult expression of grief behind her eyes, and it weighed far more than a child should be able to carry, even one as old as nineteen. Yet she kept herself at a distance, reluctant to be coddled or nurtured in any way. Perhaps he had been too hard on her, expecting her to behave like himself, like a commander. He had encouraged her overdeveloped sense of duty without even considering her other needs.

The familiar, jagged edge of self-doubt grated against his mind. Troi felt it, too. She sat up, looking down at him with concerned, counselor's eyes. "What is it, imzadi?"

"Nothing. Just, sometimes I wonder how different I really am from my father. He never let me be a kid, either."

" _William_." She smiled at him with a gently reproachful look. "You're nothing like him."

"Yeah well, we're going to have to postpone this counseling session." He sat up as well, throwing the covers back as if to bury the issue. "We have a long hike ahead of us."

Troi's look changed into something less gentle and more reproachful. But she knew he was right; it wasn't the time. His inner turmoil about fatherhood reached even further back than Carmen's arrival. With a sigh of resignation, she picked up their clothes.

As they were both dressing, a loud and sudden crack in the sky shook the roof of their dwelling. Troi's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Echoes of the crack rumbled into the distance and the sound became a familiar one. _Thunder._ _The Drums._

"Mom? Dad!"

Carmen had jolted awake. And for a moment, it was not so difficult to remember she was just a child. Troi raced to her side and took hold of her hands. "It's alright. The storm is breaking, that's all."

"The storm?" Carmen blinked several times, still wading through the fog of sleep.

"The Drums, remember?" Riker lit a lamp, illuminating the small room. Carmen finally came to her senses, a small, sheepish grin on her face at the unwonted outburst of fear.

"The Drums, yeah. I guess it's time to go?"

"Correct." As Riker turned to finish packing their belongings, he paused for a moment. A brief look of disappointment flashed across her face. _So Deanna was right._ "Hey, Carmen?"

"Hmm?" She hurriedly tucked her disappointment out of sight.

 _Go on_ , Troi encouraged, sending him a knowing smile. _I'll finish the packing._

As the counselor got up from the couch, Riker took her place. Carmen shifted uncomfortably, worried that she was due for a lecture. "Is this about last night? Look, I know I shouldn't have had anything to drink, but-"

"What was that game Tarron mentioned? Glugg?" he asked.

She squinted at him, caught off-guard by the tone of his voice, which wasn't at all stern like she had expected. "Uh, yeah. Glugg."

"How do you play?"

"Well...someone spins a coin, and the others have to finish their pint before the coin falls."

Riker made a balking sort of chuckle. "You didn't know that Vakronians have a naturally higher threshold, did you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Alcohol doesn't affect them as easily as it affects us. Because of this, their drinks are a lot stronger."

"Phew! I thought I was losing my touch!"

Riker chuckled again, shaking his head all the while. "Just...take my advice next time. By the way, did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Finish a whole pint before the coin fell?"

A devious grin spread across her face. "Sure did! Beat Davar by a couple of seconds, too."

Riker glanced towards the bedroom, then leaned closer to the young woman. "That's my girl," he said, proudly but quietly so that Troi wouldn't overhear him. Carmen revelled in his praise nevertheless.

"I really am sorry, you know," she felt compelled to say. "I hope I didn't ruin anything."

"Nah, I don't think we could have learned much from old Camus anyway. He was just a rambling old man."

"Mom said he mentioned the Grolese. That Elion's partner had been asking him about it?"

Riker shrugged it off. "Yeah well, maybe Durand had a personal interest in wildlife. Who knows."

"I asked Jora about the Grolese. She said it lives on Shadow Ridge." The young woman pulled a slip of paper off a nearby side table. As she unfolded it, Riker could see that it was the sketch of a winged creature, presumably the Grolese. "The Romulans are on that ridge somewhere, too. It has to be connected."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Did you draw that?"

"Me? No. Jora did this." Her eyes wandered over the paper, softening with a rare note of tenderness. It softened Riker's own gaze.

"You're going to miss her, aren't you?"

"I'll be fine," she replied quickly, folding up the paper and setting it back on the table. "Besides, we have a mission to do. Come on, let's get going."

"Carmen, wait…" He pulled her back down as she tried to get up. She stared at him, confused (and a little cross). Another peal of thunder split the sky overhead. The walls quivered. "It's okay, you know," Riker began, feeling a little underprepared for a lecture of this kind. Especially with his own father's shortcomings so fresh in his mind. He cleared his throat and continued. "It's okay to...get attached. Missions aren't always straightforward. Sometimes, it's the stuff that doesn't make it into the reports that stick with us the most."

She bit down on her lip, and he could tell that his words had struck a chord. This was usually when she retreated, throwing up walls like _duty_ and _honor_ and _responsibility_. But to his surprise, she stayed. "Did you ever...well, did you ever have a hard time leaving someplace?"

He put an arm around her shoulders, the gesture an instinctive answer to the silent plea in her eye, a plea for reassurance that she was not weak for having conflicted emotions. Or having emotions at all. "Sure I have. I've fallen in love plenty of times. Not just with places, but with people."

"You mean...people other than mom?"

"Yeah. But somehow, it always came back to her. And to the Enterprise. That's how I know where my home is-because that's where my heart is. Just like in that song."

Carmen knew exactly what he was talking about. "Your favorite song," she said. The words of Carmen McRae, her namesake, danced through her mind as though they had been written there.

"No more blues, I'm going back home

No, no more blues, I promise no more to roam

Home is where the heart is

The funny part is my heart's been right there all along."

"And you know what?" Riker added, squeezing her shoulder. "You aren't the only one who's going to miss this place. Frankly, I was worried Deanna would try to steal little Wrennie."

Carmen burst out laughing. "Yeah, we'll have to keep a close eye on her as we're leaving."

"Hey!" Troi called, appearing from the other room. She leaned against the wall, one hand on her hip. "I heard that."

"You know we're right," Riker replied, impervious to her scowl. With brazen indifference, he rose and brushed right past her. "I better check our bags. Make sure we don't have a stowaway already."

Carmen joined Troi under the archway. Troi pulled her close, wrapping one arm around her waist. She felt something prick at Carmen's thoughts. "Mom? About Wrennie...I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Well do you ever...you know...regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Missing your chance." She grimaced, afraid of opening an old wound. "Seeing you with a baby, you just looked so...happy."

To Carmen's surprise, a laugh fell from Troi's lips. She squeezed her closer against her side. "But I haven't missed my chance."

The young woman's eyes widened. "Wait, do you mean that...? Are you guys planning on…?"

"Whoa, whoa," Riker interjected, clearing his throat loudly and excessively. "A wedding is all we're planning right now."

"How many?" Carmen asked, pretending she hadn't heard him. "I mean, you're not just going to have one, right? How about four? Or five?"

" _Five?_ " The color drained from Riker's face.

"Or seven!" Carmen's voice rose excitedly. "So long as they aren't all boys. Then again-if Jora can handle it, I can handle it."

The commander groaned. "The real question is if _I_ can handle it."

Carmen spun around. "What kind of an attitude is that, for a Riker? And of course you can handle it. You're a good dad."

Riker froze. "I...am?" The admission had slipped from her lips so candidly, breezing across some line she had only hitherto inched towards. Carmen froze, too, realizing what she had done. But there was no going back. Not anymore.

"Yeah. I mean, if you have the patience and understanding to work with _me_ , then I know you'd do great with all seven of my brothers and sisters."

Troi yanked her backwards, grabbing her up in a fervent hug. Tears glistened from her eyes as she smiled at Riker over the young woman's shoulder. _She means it, you know._

Riker found that he was getting misty-eyed, too. So maybe he had been a little too hard on Carmen. And maybe, just maybe, he had been a little too hard on himself. He waited for the two women to finish their embrace, then pulled Carmen in for a hug of his own. "Thanks," he whispered. She squeezed him tightly.

"You're _my_ home," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. "You and mom. You're what I keep coming back to."

Another roll of thunder shook the walls. A red sun rose behind the storm clouds. The Romulans were still out there somewhere. As was Dr. Gardener. But Carmen's family, and therefore her heart, was whole. Whole and hopeful.

She had no way of knowing just how different things would be by day's end.


	21. A Dangerous Determination

**A/N: I loved the feedback on the last couple of chapters! Thanks as always :-). Your reviews always make me so happy, and it's good to know what you guys want more of. Definitely going to be focusing on the family aspect a lot more. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!**

 **By the way, happy holidays! We're getting ready for a quiet little Christmas over here, just my husband and daughter. So I'm planning on a delicious turkey dinner and lots more writing by the fireplace. Hope yours is a good one, too!**

* * *

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Elion. How long had you two been partners?"

Elion barely heard the question. His mind rattled loud as the Drums, with gusts of anger howling through his thoughts. He couldn't get the image of Durand's body out of his head. Two other agents had carried him into camp just an hour ago, and at first, Elion thought it was a washed up animal carcass. His partner had been left to the elements, to the mud and the rain, in the merciless scowl of Shadow Ridge. _Shadow Ridge. Why does this case keep coming back to Shadow Ridge?_

Lorana politely rapped her fingers against the side of her tea. "Mr. Elion?"

He realized that he was holding a mug of tea as well. It felt warm against his clammy palms. "Hmm? Did you say something?"

"I said how long had you been working together?"

"Oh, uh...two years," he replied, taking a sip of hot tea. "Durand thought this assignment was a fool's errand. He always brought that kind of optimism to a case." A hollow laugh tumbled from his lips. "I'm going to miss that grumpy old man."

Adren, who sat beside his wife, tugged at his wiry beard. Though he felt sorry for the agent, he was still not overly fond of his company. "Will you be headed back to Kitadara, then?"

After another swig of his tea, Elion continued his sleep-deprived ramblings. "An animal. They said it had to have been an animal. So where were the teeth marks? Claw marks? No, a hole like that...it was made by a weapon."

Lorana covered her mouth, feeling sickly at the image his words provoked. Her husband patted her on the arm. "Dear, won't you go check on Wrennie? I thought I heard him stirring."

Nodding, she stood up from the table. Like her husband, she had heard no sound from the baby's room. But she welcomed the excuse to pardon herself from such unpleasant conversation. Elion's eyes remained on his tea as Lorana departed. A roll of thunder rumbled across the sky, unheeded by the two men left sitting at the table.

All the while, Elion's weary mind scratched for answers. For justice. He had tried to convince the other agents to stay, to keep searching for the truth. But they were all as ignorant as the innkeeper. _Space rocks. Animals._ They wanted answers that didn't frighten them, answers that kept their world as limited as their minds. He was sure that strangers walked among them. Strangers from another planet. And someone else knew about it. _Someone_ had sent Keeling's team out there. But who? Who did Keeling work for? And where did they go?

"Well-" Adren said, interrupting the agent's brooding. "I suppose you should head out now, before the highway floods. Maybe you'll meet the Riker family on the road."

One of Elion's brows arched. "They've left?"

"Yes, not too long ago. I think Mr. Will was eager to get to work. I hope he finds something."

Elion set his mug down with a sigh. "I'm sure he will. Kitadara is full of opportunities." While he wished the family well, it was Lady Deanna that he found his thoughts dwelling on. He had hoped to say goodbye to her. There was something rare, something unforgettable about the woman. Her composure was graceful but not delicate, and she carried herself with a hint of aristocracy that belied her roots in a poor mining town. Unlike the others, she seemed to sincerely believe him. She deserved better than a narrow-minded miner from Ebon Plains.

Though admittedly, her husband was nothing to balk at. Towering in height and with shoulders that could fill a doorway, he possessed a naturally commanding air. His daughter's eyes glinted with the same steel as well. Yet those very eyes would soften in the presence of Jora, the young girl of the house.

As Elion's mind turned to Jora, he felt a faint tug of hope. She was the last avenue in his search for answers. And so, it was with relief that he found her sitting on the little wooden porch after he bid the innkeeper goodbye.

Silver sat at her side, and together they watched golden lightning leap from cloud to cloud as sheets of rain fell from the sky. There was something melancholy in the slump of her shoulders and in the way she absent-mindedly played with a rock at her feet. It brought out a gentler side of the agent that reminded him of his own lonely upbringing.

"Your friend Carmen-she's gone then?" he asked.

Jora glanced up at him quickly, furtively. "Yeah," she mumbled.

"You'll make more friends, don't worry." Coming alongside her, Elion took a seat on the wooden stair and clasped his hands over his knees. "Something tells me you're very good at making new friends."

Her hand that was playing with the rock froze. "What do you mean?"

He smiled shrewdly. "Nothing. Just that you're a special girl. And brave, too. I think you know this jungle better than anyone else in Almer." He lowered his voice. "But...why do you go out there at night?"

"At night?" She looked up at him again, and this time she held his gaze. "I _don't_ go out there at night. My dad would be furious."

"That's why I didn't tell him." Elion had expected her to lie, but not so well. She seemed genuinely confused by the agent's accusation.

"Tell him what? I don't understand."

"I saw you yesterday morning, while I was searching for Durand. You and Silver were crossing the river on your way back home."

"But we weren't!" she insisted, climbing to her feet to glare at him defiantly.

Elion studied her face, and to his surprise, he found no hint of deception. Yet how? Or rather _...who_. Who had he seen crossing the river with Silver? He replayed the memory in his head, desperate for a new detail. He remembered hearing the dog's bark. He remembered making his way towards the river, where he had seen a flash of silver tail disappearing into the treeline on the other side. Then he had caught a glimpse of a skirt, someone following close behind the dog.

"Jora...what about Silver? Where was he?" Elion asked.

"He sleeps in the barn," she answered. "And he wouldn't wander. He's a very loyal dog." She wrapped her arms around Silver's neck, daring the agent to say otherwise. No, Jora didn't have the answers. No one had any answers, it seemed.

"I've noticed that," Elion said, assuring her with a smile. "Well...keep him close. And don't go near Shadow Ridge for awhile, okay?"

"What do you mean?" Slowly, the girl perched herself back on the edge of the stair. "Did something happen? Did you find your partner?"

Elion nodded, but did not explain. It would be cruel to place the weight of such news on her young shoulders. Still, he could see the wheels of her mind turning. And though she was small, he knew the dangerous determination of such a mind. For it was not unlike his own mind. "Listen, Jora…" he began, placing an earnest hand on her knee. "Like I said, you're a special girl. You know what it's like, to be curious. To want answers. And your turn will come. Maybe one day I'll even see you in my office in Kitadara."

"Girls can't be agents," she said, trying to keep the bitterness from bleeding into her voice. "Everybody knows that."

"They can't be agents _yet_." A gentle smile crossed his lips. "But that will change, I'm sure of it. For now, please don't go looking for the truth on your own. Stay here, where it's safe. Okay?"

"I can take care of myself-"

" _Please_." The word sounded more like a push than a plea.

Grumbling, she folded her arms atop her lap. "Alright, alright."

"Good." Satisfied with her answer, Elion rose and brushed the mud from his clothes. "Til we meet again, Jora. I look forward to seeing your resume on my desk." Then, shielding his eyes from the rain, he left the Perler house behind.

But just as he had no intention of joining the other agents on the road to Kitadara, the young girl had no intention of staying away from Shadow Ridge.


	22. Friends and Enemies

**A/N: Merry Christmas! I've already eaten WAY too many cookies. Don't know how I'll be able to go to jiu-jitsu class tomorrow. May not even make it through one sparring round. If you don't hear from me again...I didn't survive hahaha.**

 **By the way, totally off topic, but I pulled out Nova's paperwork (our black lab) because I wanted to look up her exact birthday, and it turns out her father's name is Riker! Also, her mother's full registered name is Jane Duck Commander. So it's funny that she has both "Commander" and "Riker" in her parentage. Just thought I'd share :-)**

 **WIWJ-This chapter may or may not help your decision! lol**

 **Zara08-Heat wave?! We had a white Christmas over here, cold and snowy. About as far from a heat wave as you can get haha. Please don't melt, I'd miss you! Hopefully this chapter helps you cope, got your Riker action right here! :-p**

* * *

"You know," Troi said, wringing water from her long, dark hair. "If it weren't for all the rain and mud, this would actually be a lovely hike. I've never seen such beautiful flowers."

Riker leapt up a steep embankment, then turned around and reached for Troi's hand. "What flowers? I only see one beauty in this jungle." He pulled her to his level, straight up to his lips, and for the next few moments she didn't mind the rain and mud at all.

"I'm doing fine!" Carmen called, struggling to climb the same embankment. "Don't worry about me!"

Riker broke away from the kiss with a laugh. After sending Troi along, he bent down and hoisted their daughter the rest of the way up. "Sorry, I meant _two_ beauties."

Carmen groaned. "Yeah, yeah, save your poetry for the wedding."

"Not to fear, I've got plenty of poetry to cover the occasion." Riker wagged his eyebrows at the counselor. "But I'm saving the best stuff for the honeymoon."

"Oh good," Troi chimed in. "I was looking forward to hearing about the moonlight again. And what was that one line, something about prolonging the dawn?"

"Ah yes. I believe I said that I would-"

"Decorum, officers!" Carmen wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Maintain your decorum!"

Their laughter followed her up and over the miry terrain. Though she shook her head, feigning exasperation, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Their banter had become a normal, endearing part of life for the young woman.

The trail of little white flowers that she had followed before proved difficult to find in daylight. Several times already they had to double back after losing sight of the ethereal blossoms. Carmen found herself thinking of Silver and missing the security of the big dog's company. She had never understood the point of a pet before (especially after listening to Worf's misadventures with Spot, Data's tabby cat). Now she began to wonder where she could find a dog like Silver, and if the captain would even permit her to have one.

She glanced back at Riker and Troi, hoping for their input. Usually her mother could hear those kinds of thoughts, but this time, Troi was too distracted. She and the commander were already engaged in a private conversation of their own. Carmen could tell by the way they intermittently flashed each other devious grins. And so they barely noticed when the rain began to ease, falling to the jungle floor with a gentle, melodic rhythm.

"Is that the end of it?" Carmen wondered aloud, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the sky through the leafy canopy above.

Troi followed her gaze. "No, look-it's just a small break in the clouds."

Riker blew out a short sigh as he, too, looked towards the sky. "I should probably try to reach the captain again. Why don't you two take a break, refuel with some of Lorana's sandwiches. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Carmen asked, not eager to part company.

"I'm going to follow that break in the clouds," he replied, tilting his head towards a glint of sunlight between the treetops. "Hopefully a signal will be able to get through this time."

Reluctantly, Carmen nodded and followed Troi over to a rock sheltered by large, fan-like leaves. She watched the commander's back as the jungle swallowed him from view.

 _Don't worry_ , the counselor assured. _He knows we're being followed._

"We're WHAT?!" Carmen exclaimed aloud.

Troi put a finger in front of her mouth. _He's been keeping his distance; perhaps that's why you haven't sensed him yet. We're hoping this will draw him out. Once he sees Will alone, he's sure to make a move._

 _And we're just going to let him?_

 _Of course not. We're going to wait for Will's signal._

* * *

"Riker to Enterprise. Are you there?" The commander stood on a narrow ledge overlooking a gulch. Streams of water, formed by rain, raced down the slope to join a rivulet on the gulch floor.

Picard's garbled voice came through his combadge. _"...the storm...than we anticipated…Mister Laforge..."_

Riker frowned. He had made contact the night before, and Picard had warned him that the storm might temporarily affect their ability to communicate. Which also meant it would temporarily affect their ability to transport. But so long as they could pinpoint Dr. Gardener's location, they'd be ready as soon the storm eased.

After two more failed attempts, Riker decided it was no use and that he would try again later. Tucking his combadge out of sight, he moved closer to the edge. He pretended to be deep in thought, casting his eye over the rain-battered jungle. Water dripped from his chin onto his chest, but he paid it no mind, thoroughly soaked already. Then he heard it: the barely audible sound of a heel scraping against rock. Silently, he called for his imzadi. And silently, she answered.

"Don't move," someone ordered. The cold, hard tip of a weapon touched his back. "Just answer my questions."

Riker squared his jaw. Though he had been expecting the threat, it still ruffled his ego. "What are you doing here, Elion?"

"Searching for the truth," Elion replied. "And Adren said _you_ were searching for work. But you're after something else, aren't you?"

"Took a wrong turn on the way to Kitadara, that's all," he quipped. Elion lashed his weapon against the back of Riker's head, leaving a painful welt behind. The commander hissed through his teeth.

"Did you kill him? Did you kill Durand?" Thunder crashed overhead, mirroring the agent's mood. Riker waited for the rumbles to fade before answering.

"No, Elion," he said calmly. "I had nothing to do with that."

"But you know who does, don't you?" He gave the commander a shove towards the edge when he failed to answer. "I said don't you?"

"Just stay out of it, okay?" Riker warned. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself wrapped up in." He tried to turn around, but changed his mind when Elion dug the barrel of his gun into his back.

"So you _do_ know. Tell me-how would a miner from Ebon Plains know something like that? Who are you really?"

"I'm not your enemy. Course, I wouldn't consider us friends, either."

"Who sent you?"

"You wouldn't know him."

Elion's patience waned. "Don't play with me," he growled. "I said I was searching for the truth, and I won't give up til I have it. Now who sent you?"

"You mean like how the other agents gave up? Is that why you're out here alone?"

Elion snarled, frustrated with his lack of progress. He grabbed the back of Riker's tunic and yanked him towards the treeline. "Just move," he ordered. "I don't want Deanna to come looking for you."

"Too late for that."

The agent froze. "What did you say?"

Just then, Troi and Carmen came bursting out of the jungle. They slid to a stop, their eyes flitting between Elion, the gun, and the commander. "No-don't hurt him!" Troi cried.

"It's alright, Lady Deanna," Elion assured. As much as he despised the position this put him in, he refused to back down. "So long as everyone follows my directions-"

Carmen interrupted him with a groan that sounded like the audible version of an eyeroll. "No, you _mak'dar_. She was talking to my dad."

"To your-?" Before he could finish his question, Riker drove an elbow into his ribs. As Elion doubled over in pain, Riker spun around, twisted the gun from his hands, and then drove another elbow onto his back. Elion went sprawling over the ground at his feet.

"I said don't hurt him," Troi scolded.

"He's fine," Riker insisted, tossing the gun to Carmen. "Aren't you, Elion?" Roughly, he picked the agent up and set him back on his feet. Elion stammered a reply, stealing a glance towards the women. Carmen was training his own gun on him, grinning smugly, as Riker was patting him down for more weapons.

"Alright then," the commander said once his search yielded nothing of concern. "Now there's only one question left: what should we do with you?"

"I could dispose of him right now, if you want," Carmen offered, waving the gun.

Troi pursed her lips together sternly, but Riker appreciated the jest and the way it made Elion blanch. "Well we can't send him back to the village-no doubt the river's flooded by now." He stepped back and ran a pensive hand over his beard.

But as Elion kept his eye on Carmen, a connection suddenly sparked in his mind. "It was you!" he blurted out. "You were the one I saw crossing the river the night Durand disappeared!"

The young woman blinked in surprise. "What? How did you-? I-!"

"What are you talking about?" Riker swiftly interrupted before she could implicate herself any further.

"I thought it was Jora at first, because that dog is always with her. But it was you, wasn't it? Coming back across the river at dawn?" She could feel desperation burning in his mind like an itch that wouldn't go away. "Please," he implored. "What happened to my partner? Who killed him?"

Conflicted, she looked to Riker for what to do. Duty clashed with compassion, each one clamoring to be upheld. Before she could answer, however, something came crashing towards them. A familiar flurry of barks filled the air.

 _"Silver?!"_

All heads turned towards the shadowy edge of the jungle. Silver emerged, every bark ending on a shrill and frantic note. He pawed at the ground, visibly agitated.

"Something is wrong," Carmen declared, a lump of dread forming in her stomach. "Jora. Something happened to Jora."


	23. The River

**Zara08-Hahaha next chapter, I promise! Commander Riker is about to meet his match... *cue the evil laughter***

* * *

Silver dove through the jungle ahead of Carmen, guiding her onward and upward. Her mind raced faster than her feet as clashing emotions fought for a foothold. One second she was livid, thinking only of the scathing lecture she wanted to give Jora. And the next she was scared to death, unable to bear the thought of such a tragedy befalling the Perler family.

The roar of water reached her ears. Here, the river doubled back across the land, ripping at roots and boulders along its banks in a storm-induced rage. Silver slid to a stop above the impetuous flow. Carmen followed suit, searching for a sign of the girl. Fear clutched at her heart. For in the middle of the river, clinging to a rock as she clung to life, was her young friend.

" _Jora!_ " she shouted. "I'm here, Jora! Just hang on!"

Riker came crashing through the brush behind her. He scanned the scene quickly, surveying it with a well-trained eye. Troi appeared a moment later. Her mouth fell open in horror. "Poor things are exhausted! They'll drown if we don't get them out of there soon!"

 _They?_ Carmen looked to the river again, and to the boulder cleaving the current in two. Jora hung on the downstream side, gripping the rock tightly lest the swirling water carry her away. But on the upstream side, Carmen spied a Romulan boy. The river rushed at him, pinning him against the boulder. He clawed for a handhold, kicking somewhere beneath the surface to keep from going under.

"Over here!" Elion's voice pulled her attention away. He had made his way lower, down to the water's treacherous edge, and stood near a sapling that bent over the river. "If we had a rope or something, I could climb out there and throw it to them."

"We don't have any rope," Carmen snapped. Though she didn't show it, a small amount of favor had wedged its way into her heart. For Elion had raced to Jora's rescue with the rest of them, thereby giving up a perfect opportunity to escape.

"Improvise, Carmen." Riker tugged on a vine that dangled down the side of a tree, testing its strength. "It always comes down to how well you can improvise. Have I taught you nothing?"

She smirked, only mildly annoyed with his flippant tone in the midst of such dire circumstances. Taking a step back, Riker withdrew his phaser. Elion stiffened at sight of the weapon, but looked on, curious to see what the commander would do with it. Riker aimed high, near the tree's top. Then, after a single shot, the vine fell into a loose tangle at his feet.

"You get that gun from Ebon Plains?" the agent quipped, eyeing the phaser with a tinge of awe.

"Oh yeah," Riker answered. A sly smile curled the corner of his mouth. "Everyone's got one where we come from."

Elion climbed onto the trunk of the sapling with a dry laugh. "I'm sure they do. Now hold tight to one end of that vine and throw me the rest."

"I'm lighter," Carmen argued. She tried to hop down to his level, but Riker stopped her short.

"No. I need you here."

"I can do it, dad." She glared back at him, meeting steel with steel. "Don't you trust me?"

"Yes. And that's _why_ I need you here." He squeezed her shoulder, trying to convey more than he had time to say. "Because I know that you and Deanna won't give up, should the current drag me in as well."

Carmen nodded slowly, understanding. She felt strangely okay with his decision, knowing that yes, he was protecting her as a father. But he was also trusting her as a commander. And that lit an old fire in her resolve, the fire of duty and honor.

"Just a little longer, Jora! Don't let go!" she shouted, hoping that the girl could hear her encouragement over the roar of the river.

Riker threw Elion the other end of the vine. The agent shinnied down the trunk, keeping low and gripping tightly with his knees. As he neared the end he pushed himself upright, steadying himself against the sway of the sapling. It bent beneath his weight, dipping dangerously close to the water's surface. Its roots, which clutched at the crumbling dirt, began to tear free.

"Hurry up!" Riker bellowed. Elion threw him a scowl over his shoulder. Then, after coiling the vine's excess length together, he heaved it across the river with all his might. Carmen held her breath while she watched it sail through the air. The Romulan boy saw it coming. He lunged towards it, making a desperate grab that nearly sent him downstream. But the tip landed just shy of his fingertips.

" _Dor-sho-gha!_ " Carmen spat.

Elion, too, whispered something harshly as he reeled the vine back in. The sapling shuddered beneath him.

"Please…" Jora pleaded, weak and exhausted. Fatigue was prying her fingers one by one from the rock.

"One more time!" the agent called. "Don't worry, Jora! I've got you!"

But the next throw did not meet its mark, either. Nor did the next. Finally, after the fourth throw, the Romulan boy caught the vine with a cry of relief. After wrapping it around his wrist, he swung himself around the rock, right into Jora's path. Upon impact, the children clung tightly to one another.

"Get ready!" Riker called over his shoulder. Troi and Carmen fell into line behind him. They braced themselves as the current swept the girl and boy downstream.

Then the vine stretched out, snapping taut at the end of its length and nearly yanking Riker off of his feet. Carmen and Troi slid across the muddy ground, coming closer and closer to the river's edge. With a roar of effort, Riker dug his heels in and brought them all to a stop.

 _That's it!_ Troi encouraged. _Now let's bring them in!_ Riker took a step back. Then another step. And another. As he pulled the brunt of the weight, Carmen and Troi held fast to their end, keeping him from getting dragged forward again between pulls.

Meanwhile, Elion had begun to work his way down the sapling's trunk. He kept one eye on the children's progress and one eye on the shore. Just as he was starting to feel hope's warm hand, a loud crack rent through the air. He had only a second to register the sound before he found himself plummeting towards the raging rapids.

Troi cried out in alarm. "No! He'll die if we don't get him out!"

Carmen, too, felt a surge of panic as the agent's head ducked beneath the surface again and again. He fought bravely but in vain against the current that hurtled him downstream.

"Go," Riker urged. "Keep an eye on him. We'll be right behind you." The children were almost within reach by now. Silver, who had been pacing the shore nervously, jumped into the water as they neared. _Just promise you'll be careful?_

 _I will. See you soon, my imzadi._ Troi set off in a hurry, leaping over twisted roots and jutting rocks in her path. Carmen's lips drew into a thin, worried line as she watched her mother leave.

"Come on Carmen," Riker ordered. "Just a little more. Then we can go after her." Together, they pulled the exhausted children up onto the banks. Silver followed them, circling worriedly and whining.

Carmen dropped to her knees at Jora's side, turning her face up as she lay in the mud. "Jora! Can you hear me?"

"Carmen?" Her face scrunched together. "What are you doing here? I thought-where is Elion?"

"He's...going to be alright. And so are you," Carmen promised.

The boy coughed and sputtered nearby, hunched over his own knees. Riker thumped him on the back a few times to help clear his lungs. He was small for a Romulan, and seemed somehow frail and pitiful. His stay in the Vakronian jungle must not have been a kind one, Carmen mused. "This is him, isn't it?" she asked, nodding her head in his direction. "This is your friend?"

Jora smiled weakly. "Yes. I...I had to warn him. After you left, Elion came by. Something bad happened to his partner."

"Something bad _did_ happen to his partner. And it could have happened to you, Jora." Her relief was quickly doubling back to anger. "You should have stayed home, where it's safe. What were you thinking? And during a storm!"

"Hey, hey," Riker interceded. "Go easy on her. She's had a pretty bad day." Yet he couldn't help but smile, to see the roles reversed for once.

Carmen clicked her tongue against her teeth. "We'll discuss this more later. Right now, my dad and I have to go after-"

A deep-throated growl rumbled through the air, loud as the Drums. Silver crouched before them protectively, hackles bristling and fangs bared in a fearsome snarl. Riker's hand slid towards his phaser.

"Silver?" Jora prompted. "What is it, boy?"

Three figures stepped out of the shadows. Carmen hissed something under her breath, poising herself between them and the girl. She knew the uniforms. She knew the jet black hair, the V-shaped ridges on their forehead. Romulans. They had been discovered by the Romulans.


	24. Captive

**Zara08-LOL! Well here's your other Christmas pressie :-)**

* * *

"Set your weapon down." The foremost Romulan waved a disruptor in Riker's direction. Gritting his teeth together, Riker obeyed and placed his phaser on the ground. A sneer twisted the Romulan's lips. He nodded the other two forward, each one brandishing disruptors of their own.

Silver lunged suddenly, a vicious snarl erupting from his throat. His jaws clicked together in a warning. The Romulans halted. Their eyes fixed fearfully on the dog.

"Get rid of it," their leader ordered. "And quickly."

"No!" Jora cried, struggling to her feet even as Carmen held her back. "Please don't! He's-"

A bolt of energy struck the dog. He fell to the ground with a thud and moved no more. Jora cried out again, a wretched sound of heartache flying from the depths of her soul. Carmen released the girl and she crawled to Silver's side, burying her face in his rain-slicked fur to muffle the sobs that followed.

But the bolt of energy had not come from a disruptor. It came from Riker's phaser, which was now in the hands of the Romulan boy. It took Carmen several moments to sort out the chain of events. He must have picked it up and stunned the dog in an effort to save Silver from a disruptor blast. Jora, however, had no way of understanding that. For all she knew, her friend had just killed her beloved dog.

The Romulan leader advanced, snatching the phaser away. The boy cowered beneath his glare. Still, he mustered enough courage to make a plea on their behalf. "Mercy, Kotar. Please. They saved my life."

"You are weak like your father," Kotar jeered. He grabbed the boy's shoulder and shoved him roughly towards the guards. "Now go. Stay out of this."

He landed in a pitiful pile, muddy and ashamed. Jora looked up and met his gaze. Tears streamed down her cheeks alongside the rain. Yet her eyes burned with betrayal, and her pain cut deep into Carmen's senses like the jagged edge of a knife.

She pulled the young girl into her arms despite her feeble attempts to lash out. "He isn't dead," she whispered. "Listen to me! Silver's not dead! Your friend saved him!"

Jora stopped struggling, though her mind still fought to comprehend. Carmen held her tightly, protectively, eyeing Kotar as he prowled the space between them and Riker.

"Starfleet, then?" the Romulan mused, turning the phaser over in his hand and examining it thoughtfully. "I knew you would come for the doctor. I had just hoped to be on our way by now."

"Where is Gardener? What have you done with him?" Riker demanded.

Kotar balked at his tone. "Bold questions for someone kneeling in the mud." He tucked the phaser away and squatted down to Riker's level. "Tell me-who are you and what is the name of your ship?"

Riker's jaw clenched. "Bold questions for someone in violation of the Treaty of Algeron."

The Romulan's chest rose sharply. His lips twitched, offended by Riker's insolence. Without warning, his fist flew. Hard. The blow sent Riker reeling backwards.

" _Dad!_ " Carmen cried, separating herself from Jora. She launched off the ground and landed high on Kotar's back. Her arm snaked under his chin, closing around his throat.

Deftly, he grabbed hold of her leg as it sought to hook over one of his and spun her to the ground. No sooner had she landed when his boot smashed into the side of her face. She rolled onto her stomach, holding her jaw and groaning in pain. Smugly then, Kotar stepped between her shoulder blades and gradually squeezed the air from her lungs.

"No…" the commander rasped, still trying to regain his balance. It felt like his brain wouldn't stop rattling around his skull. But the sight of Carmen thrashing violently in an attempt to escape the smothering pressure galvanized him to his feet. "Get away from her!"

The desperate tinge in his voice told Kotar that he had found a way to cut right to the chase. "I will ask you one more time," he said, bending over to shove his disruptor against Carmen's temple. Rain dripped down her face from the barrel of his weapon. "Who are you and what is the name of your ship?"

"Carmen! No!" Jora shrieked. She crouched beside Silver's inanimate body, her widened eyes filled with fear and confusion. She didn't understand the Romulan's question. Nor did she understand Riker's answer.

"I am Commander Riker of the Enterprise," he said, detesting the bitter taste of compliance in every word. "And my ship is in orbit. Now let her go!"

"Well then commander," Kotar said, easing his weight off just enough to let Carmen take a ragged gulp of air. "I suppose the storm is giving your crew trouble, and that's why they haven't beamed you back yet?" He took Riker's seething silence for a yes. "Good. We may have time to finish the repairs after all. Orreth, Tovain-move them out."

"What about the others?" one of guards asked.

"Others?"

"The river washed a man away. A woman ran after him."

Riker's chest tightened. While it was too late for them, he had at least hoped for Troi to escape unnoticed.

"We have no need for so many prisoners," Kotar replied. "If you find them, dispose of them."

"No!" The commander's heart leapt into his throat, choking his cry. "You can't do that!"

Kotar shifted his disruptor in Riker's direction. At the same time he leaned over Carmen again, slowly crushing her beneath his boot. She wheezed a few choice words in Klingon, of which Kotar took no heed. "You may be a commander on your ship," the Romulan growled. "But here, you have no authority. Now march."

* * *

"Do you remember what it's like, to be comfortable and dry?" Elion quipped, huddled beneath an umbrella of broad, sturdy leaves. "Neither do I."

It still felt like his head was swimming with water, even though Troi had pulled him out of the river nearly an hour ago. To his relief, she had found him clinging to a broken root on the inside of a bend. Something strange had come over her shortly thereafter, and she insisted that her family was in danger. That _they_ were in danger. It didn't make sense to the agent, but he listened to her anyway and found them a decent place to hide.

Troi did not smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. "The sun has to come out sometime," she merely said, pulling her legs in tighter to avoid the rain dripping off the edge of the leaves. Elion stole a glance at her, eyes abrim with a soft appreciation for her company. She had a way of sounding sage even when she was speaking literally. Yet despite the bravery she tried to wear, he could see that she was grieving the fate of the others.

"Yes. And when it does, Jora's family will send help," he said, hoping to encourage her. "We won't have to do this alone."

"No." Troi shook her head. "We cannot let anyone else get involved. We should be gone by then."

"What do you mean gone?"

She fell silent, pulling restlessly at the hem of her skirt.

"You want to do something about it, I know." Elion cupped a hand over her arm. "But I can't help you unless you give me more information. What do you know about...them? The ones who killed my partner?"

For a moment, Troi hesitated. "They…are not supposed to be here," she said.

"Neither are you. Am I right?"

Her eyes widened briefly, relaying her surprise. That was all the confirmation Elion needed.

"Do you know _why_ they're here? What they want?"

"No," she answered through tight lips.

Elion leaned back against the stalk with a sigh. He still didn't have the truth, the whole truth. But he had wedged the door open at least.

"Well, wherever you're from, I'm glad we met," he said, offering her a smile. Then he shook his head and laughed. "I don't get it, though. Your husband assaulted me. Your daughter held me at gunpoint. But you-you went and saved my life?"

Troi returned his smile at last. "To be fair, you assaulted Will first. And our daughter, well...she's very loyal."

"She _is_ your daughter, then?"

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I thought maybe it was all just a cover. Is Will...is he really your husband?"

"Ah. I see." She giggled at the note of hope in his voice. "Yes. Or, he will be. We were planning our wedding when all of this came up."

Elion's hopes tumbled, even though he had been careful not to place them too high. "He's a lucky man, then. And what about Carmen? Do you always bring your daughter along on dangerous expeditions?"

"There's no stopping her." A hint of pride seeped into her eyes. "Just like her father. It's one of their best traits. And worst, depending on how much patience I have left."

Elion's smile turned into a smirk. "See, I knew you weren't a poor miner's wife. You're a saint!"

They laughed together for a few moments before remembering their need to keep quiet and keep hidden. Troi leaned her head back, letting a lull fall between them as she listened to the sounds of the storm. And slowly, a plan began to form in her mind.


	25. Resemblance

**A/N: A short one for you today. Got a little busy trying to get back in the swing of things after the holiday. Thanks so much to anyone still reading this, I know my stories end up being like a million chapters lol. I only have one more episode in mind after this to tie together all the overarching elements, so resolution is in sight, I promise!**

 **I was toying with the idea of maybe doing a one-shot before I write the final episode, something that would take place on Betazed, maybe during Carmen's visit? JWood201, I remember you saying you'd love something like that. I'm always open to ideas for scenarios or anything you'd like to see happen on Betazed! Also, we WILL be seeing Lwaxana again in this episode. :-)**

 **Zara08-Thank you so much for always reviewing! Seriously, I look forward to your feedback and witty remarks every time. Your last comment would be a hilarious one shot, don't you think? Lol!**

* * *

The Romulans prodded them towards Shadow Ridge at a ruthlessly brisk pace. Rain had turned the jungle floor into a boggy mess, making the journey a difficult one. Jora especially struggled, still exhausted from her ordeal in the river. Time and again she stumbled, and time and again Carmen stood her back on her feet. She feared that Kotar would grow impatient with the girl and change his mind about keeping her on as a prisoner. An old fear shuddered down her back. Where she was from, Romulans were skillful and accomplished in the art of torture. Therefore the council had made a "merciful" decision to withhold any valuable information from all child-soldiers, rendering them useless to their enemy. They barely even knew what they were fighting for. As a result, children were never taken prisoner; they would be executed with swift and callous efficiency instead.

As Jora stumbled again, Carmen cast Riker a desperate look. The girl would not make it all the way up to the ridge. He smiled gently, sympathetically, and scooped her up. "I've got this," he whispered. "Don't worry. I won't let anything bad happen to either of you."

Carmen wanted to believe him. There was no war here, she told herself. But still, as she watched Jora's head bounce softly against Riker's chest, she found it reminiscent of the way her Klingon compatriots would carry some of the younger recruits. The places they visited were never teeming with life like Vakrona. No, they were usually god-forsaken rocks covered in sand or snow or ice. The children always had a difficult time navigating that sort of terrain. So on occasion, one of the Klingons would pick them up, grumbling something about how humans never carried their weight while simultaneously tucking them into their arms like a fretting mother. Carmen herself had been one of those children once, weary and cold and hanging from a Klingon's arms.

Jora looked cold and weary, too. Carmen shook her head, forcing herself to shut out the image. Jora was never supposed to resemble a child-soldier. She was never supposed to be in this position. It was supposed to be safe here-safe to get attached, that is.

The hike carried on, and so did the morning. It was hard to tell what time of day it was anymore without a sun to make proper shadows. The rain pounded in time with the Drums, keeping their very own marching cadence. It became increasingly difficult for Carmen to hide her pain from the others. She was sure that Kotar had cracked several of her ribs, and her tongue tasted of blood from the kick to her face.

"It's alright, we're almost there," someone whispered. Carmen looked around, startled from her brooding. It was the Romulan boy. He offered her a flimsy smile of encouragement.

Slowly, a realization dawned on her. "It was you, wasn't it?" she growled. "You're the one who shot me down from that tree!"

His smile fled. "I'm sorry. It's just-you left me no choice!"

Carmen was about to dismiss his apology when something flickered in her brain, a small mote of recognition. She narrowed her eyes, trying to place it. Yes, there was something strangely familiar about him. But how could that be? Surely she had never met him before.

Still, her mind would not let it go. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Kotar whipped around. "Toleel!" he bellowed. "I told you to keep out of this!"

Carmen staggered back a step, reeling from the sound of his name. Riker, too, froze in place. He knew the name, but not the face.

 _Oh god, his face_...She could see him now, lying lifelessly beside the other bodies. Carmen had never forgiven herself for the boy's death. This was the Romulan who had died for Captain Picard. This was the boy whose death had precipitated the destruction of her Enterprise. If she had saved him, then Toleel's father would have gone ahead with the first ever Romulan-Federation alliance. And that ship that she was born on, the Enterprise of her real mother and father, would still be somewhere out there.

As Toleel crept back in line with the other Romulans, turning his face to the ground to avoid Kotar's glare of disapproval, Carmen's mind spun out of control. What did this mean? For her, for Riker and Troi, for the Enterprise that still sailed the heavens above? Her universes were colliding, and there was something terribly foreboding about it all. _It was supposed to be safe..._


	26. Dashed Hopes

**Zara08-All I can say is...things aren't looking good for our characters. Mwahahaha!**

 **JWood201-No worries, I'm just glad you're still following! I was scared I'd lost ya haha. Thank you for your kind words, I always love your reviews! :-) Omg that sounds amazing, your Betazed project. Will it be something you publish on here? I definitely want to read it!**

* * *

Carmen had been so entrenched in her thoughts that she barely noticed when they arrived at their destination. They stood at the mouth of a cave all of a sudden, its width greater than its height. Vines dangled across the opening, and from somewhere beyond, Carmen could make out the glow of torches.

"Bind their hands, and then go back out there," Kotar ordered his two guards. "You know what to do."

They tied up Riker first, and the girls next. As Carmen's hands were bound in front of her, she sent her mother a silent warning. "Move," Kotar growled, thrusting her into the cave as soon as the guard was finished.

A pungent, musky smell filled her nostrils. It smelled like an animal lived there. Twigs and dead leaves littered the floor, mixed with scraggly brown feathers. The cave veered to the right, revealing a large, rounded chamber of some kind. A group of Romulans occupied this chamber. All but two climbed hastily to their feet.

"Kotar!" a man greeted. Kotar ignored him. His gaze landed on the two who had not risen. One, who had been laid out across the floor, seemed gravely ill. Black splotches marred his skin, their edges raised and oozing with green blood. Another man sat nearby, watching over him. But to Carmen's surprise, he was not Romulan. He appeared to be an older Vakronian gentleman.

"You-" Kotar jabbed a finger his direction. "See to our new guest." He shoved Carmen towards him with such force that her knees struck the hard ground. She yelped out in pain as her ribs jarred upon impact. Riker surged forward to help, but Kotar barred him with an arm. "Any escape attempts, and she will bear your punishment. It is the only reason I am asking him to heal her-that she may be whole for the breaking."

A flutter of fear seized the commander's stomach. He thought of the pain Kotar had already inflicted upon the young woman, and how much more he was capable of. Yet he refused to let this flutter reach his eyes. He stared the Romulan down evenly while the corner of his mouth twitched in contempt. "We may be your prisoners for now. But you're cornered, Kotar. And you _will_ answer for your crimes against the Federation."

Kotar snorted indignantly. "It is the Federation who will answer to their crimes. You think me a fool? You are the ones who declared war, not us."

This time, Riker had no answer. Carmen looked up from the ground, her eyes wide like a child's. _War? What does he mean?_ Then she felt someone tug on her hand. "Come on," the old Vakronian coaxed. "You're hurt. Let me take a look at you." He pulled her gently to her feet.

"Dr. Gardener?" she blurted out as she came face to face with him. An expression of surprise flitted across his features, which had been subtly modified to resemble the natives. "Keeling sent us," she explained. "I...I'm sorry. I wish we could've done more to help." Though he said nothing, the disappointment of his dashed hopes swept over her.

"The rest of you, get back to work!" Kotar barked. "Unless you fancy a Starfleet brig as your new home. You too, Toleel!" The boy exchanged a mournful glance with Jora, then turned to join the others. Kotar appointed two new guards, who hung back near the cave's entrance, and the rest of their footsteps gradually faded from earshot.

"What do you mean, Keeling sent you?" Jora's question filled the heavy silence left behind. Carmen took a deep breath, gathering enough courage to face the young girl.

"Jora, we...I...haven't been honest with you."

"I don't understand."

It felt like someone had lodged a knife in Carmen's chest. How could she explain that the whole visit had been a charade, a ruse to garner information? Riker stepped in, trying to help. "We aren't from Ebon Plains," he said softly. "We came here looking for Dr. Gardener. But we couldn't let anyone know that. Not even you or your family."

Her frazzled mind grasped for comprehension. She backed away from Riker slowly. "Wh-why not? Who are you?"

"Don't worry about it for now. Let's just...take a seat," Riker urged. "We could all use some rest."

A hand pressed against Carmen's back, moving along the painful line of her broken ribs. Instinctively her leg lashed out in retaliation. Gardener leapt out of the way just in time.

"Easy!" He flashed his palms in a benign gesture. "I'm checking for injuries, that's all. The way you were standing...it's your ribs?" Carmen nodded, feeling a tad sheepish. It was always a strained relationship between her and doctors. "Well my supplies are over here. I'll fix you up in no time."

Gardener shuffled over to a bag beside the recumbent Romulan. Carmen eyed him warily. He gave no outwardly sign of being conscious, and if it weren't for the fresh blood seeping out of those strange black patches on his skin, she would have thought him long dead.

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Gardener turned his head, following Carmen's inquisitive line of sight. "Oh, that's Siko. He got himself into some blackweed shortly after they crashed here. It's why they captured me, you know. They took me for a real Vakronian doctor. Imagine their surprise." He chuckled to himself, a dry and rasping sound. "I did what I could, but even the Vakronians have no cure for blackweed. I am only prolonging the inevitable. Siko will die unless they get him to a ship soon, something with a proper sickbay."

"What a tragedy," Carmen retorted, easing herself down beside her father. She clenched her teeth tightly against the pain.

Riker watched her, his concern visibly growing. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"Not bad," she lied, knowing he already felt guilty for Kotar's abuse. She felt guilty, too, for letting the Romulan use her as nothing more than leverage. "Jora-how much longer will this storm last?"

Jora had taken a seat as Riker instructed, but kept her distance from the group. She studied Carmen guardedly. As angry and conflicted as the girl felt, however, their bond still resonated somewhere inside her lonesome heart. "The rain will take a week, sometimes more," she answered.

"The thunder, too?"

"The what?" Jora blinked.

"The Drums," Riker clarified. "She means the Drums."

"Oh. No, they don't last as long. They should clear out some time tonight."

Gardener paused from rifling through his bag. "Does that mean-?" He caught Riker's eye and lowered his voice. "How close is your ship?"

"They'll be ready," the commander assured.

Hope sprang into the doctor's eyes. It proved to be short-lived, however. "How?" he asked. "Surely they took your communicators away. And a ship's sensors won't work through this atmosphere, we tried. We're outnumbered and outgunned. What else do we have?"

Riker smirked. "A woman named Deanna Troi."

* * *

"Here they are!"

Elion stooped to grab a couple of packs that had been tucked under a bush. Troi set them there when Riker had attempted to lure the agent out. Then, after Silver's abrupt appearance, they had been left behind in the haste to get to Jora.

"Well, at least we'll have some supplies," Troi said, giving the bags a once-over to make sure everything was in its place.

"Yeah, but we don't even know where we're going."

"We're going to Shadow Ridge."

"Have you seen that ridge? We could spend days searching just one of its sides. Hey what's this?" Elion pulled a tricorder from one of the bags.

"It's for extracting brains, when we get hungry," she quipped, and snatched it away.

"Hope you like cobwebs, then," he shot back, pointing to his head.

Troi laughed. "You should give yourself more credit, Mr. Elion. After all, you were right about a few things." Shouldering one of the bags, she set off into the jungle.

"I was?" Elion picked up the other bag, trotting to keep up. "Which things?"

Troi glanced at him sideways as he drew up beside her. "Do you remember that dinner with the Perler family?"

The agent blew out slowly. "Yes, I think. It seems like forever ago, doesn't it?"

It did, Troi realized. Carmen had slipped away after dinner, happy to be entrusted with a mission of her own. And Riker had hurried them back to their room, happy to have it all to themselves. Troi's thoughts danced across those memories. The way his lips scorched hers as his hands fumbled to open the door. The blissful chaos that followed. She shook her head, forcing herself back to the present conversation. "Well, do you remember what you said about life on other planets?"

"Yes...and?"

"And I think you were right." She smiled behind her pretenses, flimsy as they were. "A race of explorers would have to travel throughout the universe without disrupting other races, without influencing their culture and their politics and their natural progression. They would have to come up with some sort of...directive...to ensure that didn't happen."

"And if it did?"

A giggle broke through her smile. "Then I guess it's brains for dinner!"

He laughed in return, only slightly nervous that she may not be joking. As they carried on, Troi's memories continued to dwell on that night. To Carmen sneaking in at dawn and the pitiful sight of her washing up alone. To the young woman's fear that she had disappointed them somehow. To the way she called Troi 'mom' for the first real time, and how much the counselor enjoyed having someone to tuck in.

Troi halted all of a sudden. "What is it?" Elion asked, bringing himself to a stop as well. "Are you having those...visions again?"

"It's the Grolese!" she said, a victorious declaration.

"Beg your pardon?"

"The Grolese!" she repeated, as if that should clear things up. "Carmen showed it to me. She saw it that night. But Camus said it hibernates all summer long."

"Camus? Slow down, you aren't making any sense."

Troi threw her bag to the ground and began to sift through it. "We went to the tavern last night to ask around, see if maybe your partner had learned anything interesting. Ah, here it is!" She pulled on a piece of paper that had been carefully folded and tucked away.

"And what did you find out?"

"Camus said he was asking about the Grolese, a giant bird that lives in this jungle. Does this look familiar?" She unfolded the paper to reveal a drawing of Shadow Ridge and a winged beast.

"We saw that the other night! What an ugly brute." He shuddered at the memory. "Wait-did you say it was supposed to be hibernating?"

"Yes. And what if it isn't because someone found its den?"

Elion squatted beside her. "Good question, but how does that help us? We don't know where its den is."

"We do, in fact. It's here." She pointed to the picture. "Jora drew this after she discovered it on one of her hikes."

Elion studied the picture again. Sure enough, a few dark strokes shadowed what looked like the entrance to a cave on the jutting edge of Shadow Ridge. "I knew Jora was a special girl," he said, chuckling to himself. Then he froze. "Lady Deanna? Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, why?"

"Your legs…"

Troi pulled her skirt aside and peered down at her legs. Black splotches crept over the surface of her skin, their edges raised like veins. "What…? What could that be?"

"Blackweed." Elion gulped. "I don't know when, but you must have stepped in blackweed."


	27. Second Chances

**Zara08-Yum! Hahaha :-p And I think Elion will continue to surprise you, but I won't say how!**

 **SeverusSnape'sLove-Your update, promptly delivered! :-)**

* * *

 _The Romulan subcommander stared straight ahead, barely even reading the screen anymore. He had been assigned to this forlorn bunker an eternity ago. His thoughts drifted to his son and how quickly his face must be changing at such a tender age, caught between childhood and adolescence. His mother had already passed. A violent illness took her just as the boy was beginning to speak his first words, before this miserable war started. Hopefully it would be over soon and the subcommander could go home in time to teach his son to be a man._

 _But those were just idle hopes, he knew._

 _A heavy metal door swung open. Two of his officers marched in, throwing something to the ground. "We found_ _ **this**_ _in the tunnels," one of them spat. "Now we know where our missing food went."_

 _The subcommander stood up to get a better look. A scout. An infiltrator. A child. She shrank away from him, scooting back towards a corner as her breath rattled aloud. She was not much older than his son, he noted._

" _Why is she dressed like that?" he asked. Though she was human, she wore the black and silver uniform of a Klingon. The pauldrons covering her shoulders stuck out absurdly far for her wisp of a frame, and an armored vest had been crudely cut to accommodate her smaller stature._

" _Haven't you heard?" the first officer said. "Starfleet has been sending their young to live with Klingons now that their forces have been brought to their knees."_

 _The subcommander's brows drew together. "Then a Bird-of-Prey must be nearby. Maybe even other scouts."_

" _The sensors have shown nothing-"_

" _You know this atmosphere is nearly impenetrable."_

" _Perhaps they left her behind to gather information and were planning on retrieving her later," the second officer proposed. He stalked towards the girl, who flattened herself against the wall as he approached. Her breathing quickened, escaping her lips in little whimpers._

" _Well? Which is it?" he asked. But she kept her eyes to the ground, wincing with every word and shaking like a leaf. "Is your ship nearby? Were you working alone? Answer me!" His patience timed out. The back of his hand flew across her cheek. She cried out only once, then made a brave attempt to pull herself together again._

" _You're wasting your time," the other retorted. "She doesn't know anything. They never do. Here, we might as well finish her off." He drew his disruptor from its holster._

" _No!" The subcommander stayed his weapon. They cast him quizzical looks. "I mean...I'll do it."_

" _You?"_

" _Yes. But not here-I will take her to the surface first."_

 _He brushed past both of his officers and took hold of the girl's arm. She recoiled instantly. At first he thought she was being defiant, then he noticed the way that she clutched her arm to her chest. It had been broken._

" _Why the surface?"_

" _She is only a child; she should see the sky one more time."_

" _What does it matter? Your compassion is wasted on such a wretched creature. And there isn't even much of a sky."_

 _True. This was a barren and hostile chunk of rock, with no forests, no mountains, no difference between day and night even. The subcommander clicked his teeth together. "Just stay here and monitor the sensors, in case something should come through. I will return shortly."_

* * *

 _With a hand on her back, the Romulan guided her through the dark and winding system of tunnels. She had to jog to keep ahead of his long-legged strides._ _ **Imagine that**_ _, he thought wryly._ _ **Making her run towards her own death.**_

 _They approached a metal ladder. He climbed to the top and lifted a hatch. A howling wind caught its edge, throwing it open. Her eyes widened, frightened by the sound._

 _The Romulan climbed back down the ladder to where she stood. Then he picked her up, sparing her from having to climb with a broken arm. She felt so fragile, like she might break apart if he held her too tightly. Every bone beneath his hand protruded sharply, and her gaunt face had lost that child-like roundness that his son still possessed._

 _As he set her down on the coarse sand, she glanced about quickly, perhaps considering an escape attempt. But there was nowhere to go. Desolate flatlands stretched towards the horizon, broken only by towering spires of rock. Resigned to her fate, she pulled her knees beneath her and shivered in the icy, toxic winds._

 _The subcommander stood before her, feeling for the disruptor at his side. It was cold to the touch._

" _You won't feel any pain," he promised, pressing the tip against her forehead. "Not for long, at least. It will be quick."_

 _She nodded quietly, then closed her eyes. A single tear squeezed out from beneath her long, dark lashes._

 _The subcommander's hand began to tremble. This war had taken so many lives, torn apart so many families. How much longer until it called his son's name? Would he face death as silently, as demurely, as this child?_

" _You must have been very small, when this war started," he said, low at first as though he were speaking to the wind. "Do you even remember a life before all the fighting?"_

 _She cracked an eye open, staring at his hand that held the gun to her head._

" _My son was very small, too. I...I was never sure how to explain it to him. That we weren't always like this. We had passion once. We cared about things like art and architecture and music. We weren't just soldiers and commanders, we had a_ _ **culture**_ _. We had_ _ **lives**_ _. That was what I pictured for my son, the night I held him for the very first time. Not this. Never this."_

 _Hesitantly, she lifted her gaze until it met his. Her eyes were blue as the Apnex Sea and swam with profound sorrow. Yet in the depths of that sorrow, he descried a faint and mysterious spark._

 _The Romulan sighed deeply. His disruptor fell to his side. "Tell me, what is your name?"_

 _Nothing._

" _What do they call you?" he tried again._

 _Her lips parted. She drew in a breath, but no sound came out. He sighed a second time, then turned and began climbing down into the hatch. Maybe her crew was nearby. Maybe not._ _ **But if she is to die, then let the elements be her murderer, not me.**_ _It was the cowardly way out, and he knew it. Still, he could not take a life that reminded him so much of his son._

" _Qa'Hom."_

 _The Romulan paused, hand still on the top rung. She had uttered a Klingon word of some kind._

" _What did you say?"_

" _That is what they call me," she answered, her voice unexpectedly steady. "But my name is Carmen Riker."_

* * *

Carmen jerked awake. The sudden jostle startled Riker, who was been sitting with his back to the wall and his legs drawn up. She had fallen asleep leaning against him, and he had stayed awake to keep an eye out for their captors.

"Whoa! It's alright, Carmen. I'm here." He waited for the alarm to fade from her eyes, aware of what a shock it usually was for her to return to wakefulness.

She blinked, bringing up her tied wrists to rub at her eyes. "I...I don't even remember drifting off. How long have I been out?"

"Not long. An hour maybe."

Then she noticed a pressure on her other side, and looked over to see Jora curled up against her. The girl's head was tucked under her arm, and her chest rose and fell with the gentle rhythm of sleep.

"You were both pretty exhausted," Riker said. "She's been sleeping much better than you, though. Nightmares?"

Nodding, Carmen stifled a yawn. "I was twelve again. It was one of my first missions."

"Do you...want to talk about it?" he asked, treading lightly. And she did. She told about him about how she had been charged with mapping out the Romulan bunker. She told him what it was like, to hide in those tunnels for days. To be captured and brought before the subcommander. To be taken above for one last look at the sky.

Then she told him about his mournful ramblings. She had never seen a Romulan so...well, so _human_ before. Even Riker felt a sincere pang of sympathy for the subcommander, a stark contrast to the outrage that had swelled just a moment ago.

"And then he disappeared, back into the bunker," she continued. "Probably figured I wouldn't last long anyway."

"What did you do?"

"I ran and I ran, as fast as I could. Didn't stop until my feet went numb and my lungs burned like fire. I collapsed in the sand, and I can still remember how it scratched against my face. I thought...this is the last thing I'll ever feel. And that wind, that howling wind-that's the last thing I'll ever hear. Not the comfort of another voice. It was just me and the sand and the wind."

A lump formed in Riker's throat. "And then what?" he asked hoarsely.

"I fell asleep. When I woke up again, I was back in my bunk. My crew had found me just in time."

"And the Romulans?"

"They had abandoned the bunker. Must have seen something on the sensors after all."

Riker nodded slowly, still taking it all in.

"You know," she said, a cynical smile curling the corner of her mouth. "I used to hate that Romulan for letting me go."

"Why?"

Her jaw worked for the answer. "I may have been a child, but I was not innocent. Do you know how many lives I went on to take?"

He drew in a deep and troubled breath. "Carmen, you can't-"

"Picard knew. He read my record every day out of some obligation to my parents. That's why he was so disgusted with me, when I finally returned to the Enterprise."

She turned away, her lips wrenched in a grimace that mirrored her old captain's disgust.

"You're disgusted with yourself, too," he pointed out. "That's why you're not a monster. Monsters are the ones who don't feel shame. They're found on both sides of every war, unfortunately."

 _War._ There was that word again. And there was that old shudder of fear. "Um, Dad?"

He squeezed her hand as it hung over her knee. "What is it?"

"I'm worried that...that this is all following me. Maybe I'm just fated to keep losing everything. To end up alone. Farrow said so, you know."

"Farrow? Wait, didn't you mention him last night, at the tavern?"

"Yeah. The one who had ditched the draft. He told me there's no such as thing as safe, no such thing as home. Not for people like us."

The commander scoffed. "Well there's his first mistake-assuming you two shared some sort of common ground."

"But what if he was right? What if I wasn't meant to have all this?"

"To have what?"

She squeezed his hand in return and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You. Mom. _Home_."

His chest rose and then sank with a sigh. "Look, I don't know the ins and outs of fate, but I do believe in second chances. And you got one hell of a second chance, Carmen. Don't spend it worrying about whether or not you deserve it. Spend it like a real Riker."

She lifted her head. "And how's that?"

"By letting yourself fall in love-with people, with places, with _life_. By not being afraid of getting hurt." He grinned. "And by practicing your trombone regularly, even when I forget to remind you."

She grinned back at him. "Yeah, yeah. Well...thanks, dad."

"Hey," he said, giving her a nudge. "Everything's going to be alright. You'll see. Just think about the wedding for now. Have you decided what you're going to wear to the second ceremony?"

"You mean the one on Betazed?" The color drained from her face. "Uh...the thing about that is…" She squirmed, and he sent her an innocent look of confusion.

"What is it?"

"Lwaxana said...well...she said that…"

"Spit it out Carmen."

She gulped and tried again. "She said Betazoid ceremonies are conducted... _in the nude_." She whispered the last three words as though divulging a dark and closely-guarded secret.

"Oh good, so you know already."

Her eyes flew wide. "Wait, you mean-you knew, too? All along?"

"Course I knew." He burst out laughing. "You should have seen your face!"

She punched him in the arm with the wad of rope that tied her hands together. "You're such a _yintagh!"_

He laughed all the more. She shook her head, trying to appear indignant even as she laughed along with him.

"As a matter of fact," he said, his eyes fading into memory. "The first time I saw Deanna was at a Betazoid wedding."

Carmen tilted her head, intrigued. "It was? Did it feel awkward?"

"Not really, no. Betazoids are very open people. They value complete and candid honesty, the 'naked truth,' if you will." He cast her a crooked smile. "It's a bit jarring at first, but eventually, you come to appreciate it. Kind of like Lwaxana's company."

She giggled, a fondness pulling at her smile. "You know something? I miss her. I wish we had more time together before all this came up."

Riker blew out of the side of his mouth. "How about this-when we get back, I'll put in some leave time for you to go to Betazed with her. She needs help planning the second ceremony, and you need...well, the company."

Carmen perked up. "You mean it? I can go?"

"Sure. Of course, we have to figure out how to escape _this_ place, first."

"Right." She nodded dutifully and straightened her shoulders against the wall. "Any ideas?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking. By the way-when I said to fall in love, I didn't mean with guys named Farrow. Or Sheppard. Or some handsome, young Betazoid-"

" _Daaaaad._ " She rolled her eyes.

"Just kidding. And what I said about not being afraid of getting hurt...I mean, sometimes it's okay to be a _little_ afraid. You know, for safety's sake-"

"Dad!"

"Okay, okay. That's all."


	28. Her Favorite Melody

**Zara08-LOL! That's a catchy name for a handbook. Yes, he left that part out...conveniently...hahaha!**

 **JWood201-"Important lessons through questionable methods" That is exactly the right way to word it! Hahaha I love how exited you are for this to happen for them both! Making me excited to write it :-)**

* * *

Carmen's talk with the commander succeeded in lifting her spirits. He'd acted so certain that they would be back on the Enterprise in no time, planning the wedding as if there had never been an interruption. And now, without that old clamor of fear, it was easy to believe him.

Every few minutes she would reach for her mother, just to be sure she was still there. She could feel her presence, gentle and familiar, in the back of her mind. It had become like the melody of a favorite song, always keeping Carmen company. She had come to like it-to need it even.

As a child, she had never known another empath. There was a certain frustration, a certain loneliness, in being the only one. She could reach into the emotions of others, but they could never reach out to her. Sometimes she felt like a ghost, haunting the halls of the Enterprise, surrounded by people but somehow alone. Like she resided in a desert that no one even knew existed. No one, that is, except for her father.

Every once in awhile, he would stand by the window and he'd close his eyes. Then he'd brush right past her, another ghost. She could hear him calling, hear that strange word resounding across the barren plains of that place. _Imzadi_. He was looking for somebody. Looking for _her_. And when no answer came, he'd suffer in the silence, where he thought himself alone. Carmen never knew her mother, yet she lived in those empty canyons created by her absence.

Troi was the difference between that Riker's pain and this Riker's strength. Here, even though they had delayed their love, it still shaped them somehow. And so Carmen felt a certain protectiveness over the counselor, a duty to keep her safe lest the commander truly become her father.

It made her feel restless as she sat there, stuck in her current predicament. But Troi was better off than they were at the moment. She had supplies, she had a weapon, and (to Riker's chagrin) she had Elion. And thus far, they had managed to elude Kotar's guards. _Thus far._

As Carmen reached for her mother again, she felt something different this time. A spike of alarm. A flash of worry. Then, just like that, it was gone. The whole thing had been so fleeting, so brief, that Carmen began to wonder if she imagined it all in the first place.

Footsteps approached. She snapped to attention, holding her breath should it be Kotar. Jora stiffened anxiously. She had woken up a few minutes ago, and Carmen could see the fear rushing into her eyes as she remembered where she was. It was followed by something sheepish, as though she had curled up against Carmen in a moment of weakness. And so, despite the junior officer's pleas, Jora scooted away again to resume her distant post.

The footsteps changed her mind, however. She inched closer to Carmen, eyes glued to the corner to see who would appear. Dr. Gardener's affable smile came into view.

"Feeling better?" he asked Carmen. She nodded. Satisfied, he knelt down beside his other patient, the unconscious Siko.

"What's that?" Riker indicated a bowl in the doctor's hands. Some kind of flower had been crushed up inside of it, creating a blue paste.

"I'll bet this one knows," he said, meaning Jora.

"Blue sun blossoms," she replied. "My mom uses them all the time. Usually when one of my dumb brothers-" She halted mid-sentence. Tears misted her eyes, tears that mourned the company of those dumb brothers. Carmen's heart stung with the girl's pain. She reached out, trying to touch her arm, but Jora shied away. Carmen's heart stung again, this time with the trust that had been irreparably damaged.

"Dr. Gardener…" Riker's mind shifted gears. He eyed the doctor's bag of supplies. "What else do you have in there?"

Gardener cast a nervous glance over his shoulder, where two long shadows stretched across the floor from the guards. "Nothing that can help you, I'm afraid."

"Help _us,_ " Carmen corrected.

The man's face pinched together. Though he fell silent, his internal struggle clamored in her Betazoid senses. Her eyes narrowed. Was he hiding something?

"Do you know where they're keeping our badges and weapons?" Riker asked, keeping his voice low.

Gardener shook his head vigorously. "No."

"Well how far away is Kotar?"

"He is just outside, overseeing the shuttle repairs. They should be finished soon."

"That's why we have to act fast," Riker insisted. "Dr. Gardener, you're our best shot right now. We have to get our badges. Or at least get our hands free-"

"I told you, I can't help!" the man rasped, glancing over his shoulder again. "Please do not put me in this position!"

But Riker persisted. "You have a trauma kit, do you not? Then you have something that can take care of this rope."

Gardener put a hand over his bag protectively. "No."

"No?" Riker tilted his head back, regarding the doctor with suspicion. Carmen shifted, coiling her feet beneath her. He _was_ hiding something, she was sure of it now. But they didn't need him. They just needed his bag.

She launched herself towards it. The doctor shrieked in surprise, trying to snatch it away. Before he could, however, she rolled herself over the top of the bag and threw it back towards Riker as she came full circle.

"Stop that!" Gardener scrambled after the bag. Carmen blocked his way, buying Riker time. He hurried best he could for fear that the guards had already heard the scuffle.

"Don't you want to get out of here?" Carmen asked the doctor angrily. "Don't you want to see Keeling again?"

"It's too late for that!" he cried. "They're almost done with the shuttle! And when we leave, I have Kotar's word that-" His mouth clamped shut. He stepped back and lowered his eyes. "I am sorry. But I have to do this."

"Do what?" Carmen's heart leapt into her throat. His face was the face of a man who had made up his mind.

"Guards!" he shouted. "Guards, come quick!"

But they were already upon them, weapons drawn and levelled. Riker dropped the bag. Carmen seethed silently at the doctor's betrayal.

"What's going on?" Kotar's voice thundered against the stone walls, and his warning from earlier rang in the young woman's ears. The guards stepped aside as he plowed through their midst. His eyes darted between Carmen, Riker, and the bag.

"I tried to stop them," Gardener snivelled. "Honest, Kotar! I-"

"Silence!" He turned his glare on the doctor, who shrank back against the wall.

That's when Carmen made her move. If he was going to punish her anyway, then she might as well get a running start. She charged, ducking her head and ramming her shoulder into him full steam. He crashed to the ground with a roar of surprise. She followed, undeterred by the fact that her hands were still bound.

As he tried to come up on his side, she leaned across his chest and shoved one arm behind his head. Then, with her other arm over his throat, she squeezed her elbows together. The rope which had initially hindered her now ensured that he could not pry her hands apart and open the choke.

One of the guards intervened. He pried her off kicking and thrashing while the other guard kept Riker at bay with his disruptor. The commander agonized over his helplessness, a growing sense of dread rolling around his stomach like a stone. He knew Kotar would retaliate, and he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop him.

"That was an unwise decision," Kotar warned, drawing himself up to his full height and straightening his disheveled uniform. "I will make sure you come to regret it."

" _No!_ " the commander shouted, surging forward as Kotar began his beating. The guards grabbed Riker, one on each side in the struggle to hold him back.

Jora whimpered fearfully. She hid her face, but still she could hear the repeated thuds followed by Carmen's sharp cries of pain. Riker fought desperately against his captors, yelling for Kotar to stop until his voice went hoarse. Nearby, the doctor merely hung his head in shame.

"Kotar!"

Someone shouted his name. The Romulan paused above Carmen, who lay hunched over her knees in a puddle of blood. "What is it, Tovain?" he snarled. Riker recognized the name as one of the officers who had been sent after Troi and Elion.

"It's Orreth. He's been badly injured."

"What? How?"

"Some kind of creature-I don't know, I didn't get a good look at it. But he needs help right away."

Kotar's blood cooled. "You," he said, pointing to the doctor. "Go with him. Now."

Gardener gathered his bag, slinking past Riker and the others as he followed Tovain out of the chamber. After they left, Kotar returned his attention to Carmen. He grabbed a fistful of raven hair and jerked her head up. "One more unwise decision, and it might be your last," he growled into her ear. Then he slammed her head into the ground before stalking away. The guards let Riker go, keeping their disruptors trained on him as they slowly backed towards their post outside the mouth of the cave.

Jora hurried to Carmen's side. Riker joined her and together, they helped the young woman roll onto her back. "It's alright. He's gone now," the commander crooned, trying not to wince at the sight of her battered face.

She grumbled something in Klingon. And then, to his surprise, she started to laugh. "Thank-you, Mr. Grolese!" she said, blood seeping through her toothy grin.

Riker's forehead creased with concern. Perhaps the beating had left her delirious. "Mr. Grolese?"

"Well, we _are_ in his den," Jora said.

The commander looked around the chamber. "I suppose that explains the feathers on the ground. And the smell."

"And this." Carmen slowly opened her hand. "Kotar was so... _preoccupied_...that he didn't even notice when I picked it up."

Riker took it from her palm. It looked like a claw, black and curved and splintered on one end where it had broken away from its owner. He touched his thumb to the pointed tip. It proved sharp. Maybe even sharp enough to cut through rope.

In the meantime, Jora had retrieved the bowl left behind by Dr. Gardener and begun to slather blue paste onto Carmen's skin. "Here," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "This will stop the bleeding."

"Where...where are you?" Carmen mumbled. Her eyes rolled back in her head and then closed. Jora looked up at the commander. They exchanged a puzzled glance.

"Carmen?" Riker shook the young woman gently, swallowing the surge of apprehension rising from his gut. "Jora is right here. Can you hear us?"

Her eyes fought to open again. "No, I was talking to mom. I can't...I can't feel her."


	29. Fair Share of Enemies

**A/N: Sorry I've been so quiet lately...I've been recovering from a concussion when I took a knee to the head during training. Been having a little trouble with my speech, remembering words and which order to put them in, so I haven't been able to work on much. I'm doing better today, managed to get this finished. And hopefully I can get back on my normal track and pump out the rest of these chapters for you! :-) Thanks so much for the reviews on that last chapter! Always makes my day to hear feedback, and especially to hear that people are enjoying the adventure. It cheered me up, especially since I have to take some time off training (jiu-jitsu is my other obsession, and it's TORTURE not to go!).**

* * *

"How much farther, do you suppose?" Troi asked, trying not to sound as out of breath as she was.

Elion paused beside the red trunk of a tree and squinted through the rain. Dark clouds swept over the top of the ridge, making it appear even taller, even more menacing, than he remembered. "We're almost there," he promised. "In fact, we-" As he turned to face the counselor, the words died on his tongue. The rash had spread at an alarming rate. Tendrils of black now crossed her chest and reached for her throat. Rain slicked the hair to her scalp and ran down her face in little streams. Her lips had lost that alluring color and smile he had known her to wear. "...should take a break. Just a small one," he finished, veiling his concern with a wink.

"No." His suggestion only seemed to upset her. "If we're close, then-"

"Just a couple of minutes, that's all I need." He started to swing his pack to the ground, but she grabbed hold of his arm.

"You don't have to spare my feelings, you know."

Gently moving her hand aside, Elion set the bag at his feet. "What do you mean?"

"You don't need to rest. And neither do I."

"Lady Deanna…" He sighed. For someone of such a gentle nature, her determination was unexpectedly fierce. Admirable. And at the moment, frustrating. "Look, I've seen blackweed cases before. The fever has already set in, hasn't it?"

She looked away bitterly.

"You're going to get worse. But you'll get worse _faster_ if you don't listen to me."

Troi's eyes drifted towards the looming shadow of the ridge. Her stomach churned at the thought of her family held prisoner up there. They couldn't afford for her to get worse. The fever _had_ set in; she could feel it coursing through her blood and ravaging her strength.

Then she felt something else, reaching through the storm like an outstretched hand. Carmen was searching for her, in need of the comfort only a mother's presence could give. The situation had no doubt revived ghosts of her past. Troi tucked her own worries out of sight and sent the young woman silent, soothing thoughts. There was no need for her or Riker to know about the blackweed just yet. They had enough to contend with at the moment.

"Did Lorana make these?"

Elion's question broke through the counselor's thoughts. He lifted a sandwich from the bag he had been carrying.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," Troi replied. She settled down beside him where a tree branch offered sparse shelter from the rain. He passed her the sandwich and then pulled out another one for himself.

"So these people...the ones who took your family..." he said, mulling over his first bite. "What _can_ you tell me about them?"

Troi stared at her sandwich, hoping it would inspire an appetite. Or at least an answer. Elion and Jora had been thrust into the midst of things, blurring the lines so carefully drawn by the Prime Directive. But with her strength fading, Troi knew that eventually, Elion might be their only hope. She would have to trust him if she wanted to get her family back, just as he would have to trust her. And that would require a little bit of honesty.

"They are a very proud race. A militant race," she began, choosing her words carefully. "They see themselves as superior to most other beings, and so they prefer to conquer rather than explore."

"Is that what you do? Explore?" Elion asked.

"Yes." Troi set the sandwich on her lap. Her stomach wouldn't have it, anyway. "We seek out new life, but not to conquer it. Not to destroy it."

"Then why?"

"Progress," she replied. As she looked over at the agent, a tired grin pulled at her lips. "And a well-developed sense of curiosity, I suppose."

Elion returned the grin. "Life and curiosity tend to go hand in hand, don't they?" He sighed wistfully, turning his gaze to the sky above. "I can only imagine the wonders you've seen. I'm envious-it must be beautiful out there."

"Most of it _is_ beautiful," she said, following his gaze. "But we've made our fair share of enemies along the way."

Grunting, Elion's eyes fell to the ridge. "Like these ones."

Troi's brows knit together at the reminder. "Yes, like these-"

A horrendous scream pierced the jungle air. Elion snapped to attention. Troi's blood turned to ice as a vicious snarling sound followed the scream. Whatever it was, it was close by.

As Elion leapt to his feet and tugged on her arm, Troi felt a tug on her mind as well. _Carmen._ Some of the counselor's alarm must have reached her. She banished it quick as she could, forcing her mind into action instead of fear.

"Here," she urged, shoving her weapon into the agent's hand. "If something happens, I...I may not be able to act. Not quickly enough, at least."

"What is this?" Elion looked down at the strange device. It conformed easily to his hand, but he could see no bullets, no discernible trigger. Just several buttons and an absurdly small screen.

"It's called a phaser," she explained. "Fire it by pressing here. It's set to stun."

"Stun?"

The screaming stopped. An ominous silence followed, broken only by a roll of thunder. Elion tugged on the counselor's arm again. "We need to move, find somewhere safer."

Wiping the rain from her eyes, Troi nodded in agreement. She let him help her to her feet and then followed him over the mud, pushing past sodden leaves and sullen flowers, every step as labored as her breath. The fever began to fog her senses. Several rashes cracked open along her skin and little trickles of blood ran to the ground with the rain. Out of nowhere, a blinding pain struck her empathic senses. She stumbled, falling onto her knees.

"Deanna!" Elion scooped her up, foregoing gentleness in the haste of the moment. "Come on, we can't stop yet! Is it your fever?"

"No, it's...it's her," she gasped.

"Who?"

"Carmen." Troi sank to the ground, slipping slowly from his grasp.

Elion glanced about, straining to listen through the incessant rainfall. He adjusted his grip on the phaser. "That was your _daughter_ we just heard?"

"No. I think that was one of the guards they sent after us."

"Then what were you saying about Carmen?"

Troi squeezed her eyes shut. Her mouth wrenched in pain, her daughter's pain, as it cascaded through their connection. "He's hurting her. Punishing her for something. They must have tried to escape..."

Elion crouched to her level, keeping one eye on the shadowy jungle behind her. "How do you know this?"

She grimaced. "I inherited certain...abilities...from my mother," she admitted. "Just as Carmen inherited them from me."

"Do you mean...mind reading?" Elion asked, somewhat nervously. He felt naked all of a sudden, despite being fully clothed.

"No. We can read emotions, not minds. But we-" She flinched with the thunderous echo of another blow. Carmen would not be able to take much more. She was burrowing into that space between their Betazoid minds, desperate to escape the pain of her physical body. It was torturous for Troi, to be able to hear her but not help her, to be able to reach her but not shelter her. Concentrating, she gathered up every remnant of strength she had left and sent it to her daughter. _Hang on to me, love. Just hang on..._

Then she collapsed, her skirt furling out beneath her like the petals of a crumpled flower. Elion's eyes flew wide. "Deanna!" He shook her shoulder, trying to rouse her. "Deanna, say something!"

The leaves at her feet rustled violently. Elion's heart leapt into his throat. He lifted the phaser, but a moment too late. A creature bounded out of the bushes, over Troi's body, and collided with his chest before he could remember how to fire.


	30. His Role

**Zara08-Hehe basically! I look pretty pathetic right now, with a black eye and a broken toe and my usual assortment of bruises. But that comes with the territory when doing a combat sport! I get really concerned looks from strangers whenever I'm out in public hahaha. And I WAS feeling on the up and up, but then my daughter decided it was a good time to catch the flu, so now I'm doomed. There should be some sort of law against having a concussion AND the flu at the same time!**

 **JWood201-Yay, glad you liked it! :-) Yeah the show was never specific about distance and the Betazoid connection. I like to think that mother/daughter relationships would work like that. Same with imzadis!**

* * *

Jora scraped together the last of the blue paste. There had been just enough to cover the worst of Carmen's wounds, which she did with a trembling but skillful hand. She cried silently all the while, visibly shaken by the violence she had just witnessed. Never before had she believed someone capable of such brutality. What did Kotar want with them? She thought of asking Riker, but wasn't sure she could stomach the answer. All Jora knew was that she missed her family, and wished she had never left the front porch that morning.

Riker leaned against the wall nearby, trying to cut through his binds with the Grolese claw. It was slow going, but at least he didn't feel so powerless anymore. He was sick of being in this cave. Sick of being confined while his daughter clung to consciousness and his imzadi-

He stopped himself short. He couldn't go down that road. Not yet. Perhaps there was another reason she had fallen silent, a benign explanation as to why he could no longer reach her. Maybe she had somehow beamed aboard the Enterprise. Maybe she was already safe. _No_. _When has Deanna ever put herself first?_ Riker thought wryly. _That woman is infuriatingly selfless. Damnit Deanna, what happened? Why didn't you tell us you were in trouble? If I lose you…_

He stopped himself again, pushing back the pain that threatened to cripple both mind and body. It was time to be a commander. To rely on cold, hard logic and get his people out of here. The next plan had to work, he knew. They were running out of time. And besides, Carmen couldn't afford another failed attempt. A gust of rage blew over his thoughts, toppling his cold, hard logic. _Five minutes. If I could just have five minutes with Kotar once my hands are free..._

"Mr. Will?" Jora's small voice reached his ears.

"Hmm?"

"There's no more," she said, turning the bowl over to demonstrate her point.

Riker's anger ebbed back below the surface once he laid eyes on the girl. Despite the weight resting heavily on her shoulders, she looked to him for instruction, for something to keep her frightened mind focused. It was a quality he valued in his own officers. But those were people with training, people with experience. This was just a child. Riker realized then that Elion had been right-there was more to Jora than met the eye.

"Thank-you, Jora. That was a good idea," he said, casting her a kindly smile as he drew close enough to take the bowl from her hands. Carmen's eyelids fluttered. She mumbled something aloud, something that the commander couldn't quite catch.

Jora looked up, her brow furrowing with concern. "She's been talking about a desert. Is that where you're from-I mean, where you're _really_ from? A desert?"

Riker shook his head. "No. I have no idea what she's talking about, to tell you the truth. Carmen?" Reaching down, he patted the young woman's cheek with the back of his hand. "Come on, Carmen. Stay with us."

Hurried footsteps sounded against the chamber walls. Jora gasped, clutching at Riker as he positioned himself between her and their quickly approaching company. Then he lifted his hands to his chest, trying to hide the frayed ends of the Grolese claw's progress.

A figure appeared, shy and shrinking. Gray light from the cave's entrance illuminated one side of his face. He stood silent for a few moments, his shoulders rising and falling sharply as he summoned the courage to speak.

"There is something I need to know." Toleel's voice, soft and whispery, barely carried across the chamber. Still, he forced himself to meet Riker's eye in an attempt to make it sound like a demand.

"Like what?" the commander shot back. He was well aware of the boy's role in Carmen's universe. Like so many other children, he had fallen victim to the prejudice of war. But here, was his role such an innocent one?

Toleel stepped further into the chamber. "My father, Admiral Alidar...I need to know what happened to him."

Something akin to pity seeped into Riker's gaze. It had been almost a year since they intercepted the Romulan's vessel as he fled his own people. On Earth, the council had put him on trial at the same time as they tried to figure out what to do with Carmen, and so those memories were closely intertwined. But while Riker had gained a daughter that day, Alidar's lonely fate as a traitor and a liar would be forever sealed.

Riker's shoulders sank under the burden of explaining this to a child, a child who was just a victim of prejudice after all. "He...he's in a Federation prison camp for attempting to incite war."

Toleel's face wrenched with pain. "He left home to _stop_ war, not incite it!" he cried.

"I know." Riker's pity now seeped into his voice as well. "There were a few of us who believed him. But there was no truth to his claims about the secret base."

"Because the Tal Shiar set him up!" Bitter tears spilled from his eyes.

 _The Tal Shiar...of course!_ Kotar's ruthlessness suddenly made sense. Members of the Tal Shiar were feared even among other Romulans. They policed the Empire, hunting for signs of dissidence. Riker regarded the boy anew, who wept silently as he huddled against the stone wall. Had the Tal Shiar gone after him, too, knowing of his loyalty to his father? Whatever the case, this new information did not bode well for any of them. "Toleel, what is the Tal Shiar doing in Federation space?" he asked. "How did you end up here?"

The young Romulan wiped a sleeve across his nose. "We...we wanted to stop the war, like my father. But the High Command wouldn't listen. And after you attacked our outposts-"

"After we _what?_ "

Toleel's eyes narrowed in suspicious confusion. "You mean...you don't know?"

Riker's jaw worked for an answer. Is this what Kotar meant when he said that the Federation would pay for their crimes? The scrape of a boot made him tense suddenly. Jora renewed her tight grip on his arm. As Toleel whipped around, one of the guards came into view.

"Wrap this up," he ordered the boy. "If Kotar notices you've slipped away, we'll all be punished."

"I'll be right there," Toleel promised. The guard nodded, then turned back towards his post. As his footsteps withdrew, Riker found himself perplexed by the warning. Perhaps Toleel was not the only unwilling Romulan in this party.

"You said your ship is close by," the boy whispered, his voice straining with a new note of urgency.

Riker raised an eyebrow. "It is. Why?"

Toleel glanced furtively over his shoulder, then drew himself closer. "If I help you escape, promise to take me with you?"


	31. Unexpected Help

**I'm actually very excited about the chapter after this; it's one I wrote before I started this episode to help me get a feel for the emotional side of things. Adding a bit to the end, so hoping to have it done tonight or tomorrow. I'm estimating about five more chapters left (not counting this one). Enjoy!**

 **Zara08-Hahaha oh yes, some Riker action in the VERY near future :-)**

 **JWood201-Don't worry, I have a flashback that will refresh your memory about Admiral Alidar and Toleel at the beginning of the next chapter :-). Trying to sneak in all the pertinent information so that nobody has to go back and reread anything, but let me know if there's something I can expound on better!**

* * *

"You can help us? How?" Riker asked. Toleel's offer had kindled a brief flicker of hope within the commander. But their captor, a trained member of the Tal Shiar, had already proven himself a ruthless adversary. And counting Toleel, Riker now had three young lives as potential collateral. One wrong move and things could easily turn tragic.

"Well...I'm not sure," Toleel admitted. "I was sort of hoping _you_ had a plan."

"What about our communicators? Our weapons? Do you know what Kotar did with them?"

Toleel shuffled his feet. "He threw them in the river."

" _Baka_ ," Carmen spat. Riker peered down at the young woman, unaware that she had been listening. While the blue sun blossoms had stopped her from bleeding, he couldn't be sure just how extensive her injuries were. Or if she had the strength to help him carry out an escape plan.

"Hey Jora," he prompted. "How much longer until the Drums pass? You said nightfall, right?"

"Correct." Jora perked with a note of self-importance, glad to finally be included.

"The sun will set soon," Toleel said, glancing nervously towards the gray light. "The shuttle will be finished before the Drums, and then Kotar will take us all back across the Neutral Zone."

"Like hell he will," Carmen muttered. Riker smirked, appreciative of her willful defiance for once. Jora, however, did not look as heartened. She had never heard of the Neutral Zone, but she assumed it was far away from Almer, the only home she had ever known.

The fear written across her face drew out Riker's natural protectiveness as a commander. His mind raced for a plan. "Toleel, how many of you are Kotar's prisoners? Would any of the others be willing to help?"

"They arrested six of us in all," he answered." But I doubt the others would be willing to help; Kotar and Siko made it clear that things will be much worse for us if we try to rebel." _Siko_. For a moment, Riker had forgotten about the other body in the room. Gardener would probably return soon to check on his Romulan patient. His eyes landed on the empty bowl of blue paste sitting at the young girl's feet.

"Jora, listen to me," he said, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. "I've got a plan, but I'll need your help. Think you're up for the task?" Squaring her shoulders, Jora nodded dutifully. "Good," the commander replied. He waved Toleel closer. "Because here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

Elion flung up his hands, shielding himself from whatever creature had just knocked him flat onto his back. Horror-stricken, he braced for the puncture of a tooth or a claw. To his surprise, however, he only felt a tongue. A friendly, flat tongue. It lapped the tip of his nose as hot gusts of breath blew over his face.

" _Silver?!"_ he cried. The dog barked happily at the sound of his name. Normally he was not overjoyed to see the agent. But apparently, recent events had changed his mind. "I'm happy to see you, too," Elion laughed.

Something green and sticky clung to the dog's fur, dripping from his jowls and staining the front of his barrel-shaped chest. Some of it had transferred onto Elion's tunic, and as he tried to wipe it off, he noticed that it had the same consistency as blood.

"Was that you, old boy?" he asked, rumpling the dog's ears. "Did you take care of that guard for us?"

Silver barked again, thoroughly pleased with himself. His tail wagged profusely as he stepped off of Elion's chest, allowing him to sit up. Troi still lay where she had collapsed, one hand turned up delicately so that rain fell into the center of her palm. Crawling to her side, the agent lowered his face next to her lips. _She's breathing. Good._ _Now what?_

The rash had crept up to the bottom of her chin by now. Elion's knowledge of blackweed was rudimentary at best, but still he knew a few tricks to help slow the poison. First things first, he had to find them somewhere to hide. Someone was bound to come looking for Silver's victim.

A dead tree caught his eye. _Yes, that will do the trick_. With Silver looking curiously on, he slung Troi across his shoulders and carried her up the slope a little ways, his feet sliding in the mud beneath their combined weight. Carefully then, he set her down inside a hollow created by the rotting wood. A few sprigs would cover the top nicely, blocking the rain and concealing her from view. At least until he could return with something to help the fever. Some talmus roots would do, if he could find any.

Troi would have wanted him to go after the others, he knew. But he couldn't bear to see her like this. He felt somewhat responsible, considering she had probably trampled through a patch of blackweed while she was racing to his rescue. So what was that nagging at the back of his mind?

Elion gazed down at the counselor as if she had the answer. His eyes followed the curve of her cheek, the slope of her chin. Even with the rain and the mud she was a woman of extraordinary beauty. Her husband could take care of himself, couldn't he? And the way her daughter held a gun, surely she had training as well. But what about Jora?

His conscience clamored on her behalf. He couldn't shake the memory of that spark he had glimpsed, something bright and brave behind those childish eyes. It would be a crime to let that spark be extinguished, snuffed out before its time.

With a sigh, Elion gripped the phaser in his hand. Then he looked up at the looming Shadow Ridge, his mind made up. "Be right back," he said, setting another sprig over the hollow. "Hopefully."


	32. Toleel

**A/N: Phew, sorry that this took so long! I hope you haven't given up on me yet! January has been a ROUGH month for us. I started training again after taking some time off for my concussion, then came home one night and couldn't remember which tooth brush was mine. So apparently I'm not out of the woods yet. Been having pretty bad headaches, so I haven't used the computer much. Or trained much. Which I hate because some of my partners are participating in a tournament this weekend and I wish I could help them prepare (I also wish I could go, but that's out of the question). Anyway, I know this all sounds like "excuses excuses" haha so without further ado, here's your next chapter, and I pinky promise the next one won't take so long!**

 **Dee171-Haha thanks for the little kick in the butt! I buckled down and got this finished after seeing your review :-)**

 **JWood201-Did I see that you posted a new story? Omg! I have to go to class now but I can't wait to read it when I get home!**

 **Zara08-You win best pun of the day! Hahaha I am the biggest pun nerd. My husband is always rolling his eyes at me.**

 **WIWJ-Lol!**

* * *

 _Carmen lay on the brig floor, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to grasp everything that had just happened. Several bodies-five, if she counted-littered the ground at odd and twisted angles. There was nothing graceful about the way people crumpled into lifeless piles. Picard alone maintained a sense of dignity in death. He lay on his back, one arm at his side and the other resting across his stomach. His legs were both stretched out, not folded beneath him like the boy's._

 _Toleel's eyes were still open, the horror of his final moments frozen in place. He was only a few years younger than Carmen. Just a child, really. Picard had pleaded for his life. He had even died first, in the boy's place._

 _Carmen's stomach churned. Wharton had executed them all right in front of her. Picard, Toleel, and the other two Romulan prisoners. Then he went for Carmen and Geordi. Now he lay on the other side of the brig, his blood seeping out to join the blood of his victims. Despite her hatred for the man, Carmen had not wanted to kill him. But she had to in order to save Geordi, the last living remnant from her father's days aboard that ship._

" _Commander Riker?" A voice came through her combadge._

 _She swallowed hard and then answered. "What is it, Adler?"_

" _The Warbird is closing in. What do we do?"_

 _Carmen groaned. Her troubles were not over yet. Just minutes ago, while Wharton was settling in to his new role as captain of the Enterprise, they had received a disturbing transmission. A Romulan leader, Admiral Alidar, announced that he was approaching Picard's coordinates just as the two had planned._

 _Picard, a traitor? Why would he lead the enemy straight to his beloved ship?_

 _Carmen followed Wharton down to the brig in search of answers. But Picard took those answers to his grave, and now Carmen was left with five bodies, no captain, and a Romulan Warbird._

" _Is Alidar here?" Geordi's shaky voice drifted across the brig._

 _Carmen's head whipped to the side. She immediately regretted it, for her vision spun with the motion. "How did you know his name?" she asked. Not once had Wharton called the Romulan by name._

" _Picard had planned to meet up with him." Both of them winced at the mention of their former captain. Carmen shut her eyes to keep from looking over at his body again._

" _Wh-why?"_

" _To send the Romulan prisoners home. Toleel is...was...Alidar's son." Carmen squeezed her eyes shut even tighter._

" _Commander Riker?" Adler's voice sounded again._

" _I'll be right there," she snapped. Then she rolled over to her stomach, pushed herself up, and willed her feet towards where Toleel had fallen. "Geordi-can you come with me? We need to tell Admiral Alidar what happened."_

" _Yes, of course. What are you doing?" He watched as Carmen slid her arms beneath the Romulan boy and struggled to lift him._

" _I've left enough children behind. I'm sending this one home."_

* * *

 _Should a Klingon warrior be struck down in the midst of battle, his soul would ascend to Sto'Vo'Kor. His body would become nothing more than an empty shell. And so Klingons abandoned their dead with a callous disregard that Carmen found difficult to stomach. It never felt right, leaving the fallen behind. Especially the children. She often pleaded for the chance to bury them, baffling her Klingon compatriots._

 _She wasn't sure what Romulans did with their dead. She only knew that this one would not be left behind to rot in a Federation brig. After carefully setting Toleel down on the transport pad, she folded his hands over his chest and tried to close his eyes, erasing that look of horror._

" _ **No more children."**_ _Picard's plea resounded within her head._ _ **"No more children have to be lost to this war."**_ _Though it was Toleel's life he was begging for at the time, there was something in his eye meant for Carmen. She was sure of it._

 _For the longest time she hated him for turning her over to the council. He knew how they preyed upon orphans, snatching them up like scavengers who picked at the carcass of a once-great fleet. How dare he despise what she had become, what he had let her become._

 _She hated her father sometimes, too. How could he have left her like that? Didn't he know what would become of her? Didn't he care? During those final moments, did he even think of her? Or was he only thinking of how proud he was to die for a man like Picard?_

 _Her chest felt like it was trying to contain a violent ocean. Her father always taught her that right and wrong were two different things. But somehow, everything had blurred together. She felt as though she were grasping in the dark, trying in vain to decide on a course of action that didn't make her feel like a monster._

 _But she_ _ **was**_ _a monster. A monster for what she did. And a monster for what she did not do. It was because of her failure to act sooner, her failure to stand up to Wharton, that a magnificent man had died. Without Picard, the Enterprise was merely an empty shell. Just like the body she was sending home in place of a son._

 _When she arrived on the bridge, she found Geordi engaging the Romulan admiral on the viewscreen. He looked vaguely familiar, enough to give Carmen pause. Had she encountered him before, in battle somewhere? The more she studied his face, the more she saw Toleel. Perhaps it was just the resemblance that felt familiar._

 _And yet, she saw a quickly vanishing look of recognition in his eyes, too. "You…" he said slowly, his gaze following her as she approached Geordi's side. "What is your name?"_

" _My name is Carmen Riker," she replied._

 _His facial features tightened, wrought with pain. "You are the one who returned my son?"_

 _She bit on her lip and nodded._

" _Picard swore that he was alive and well. I was a fool, for believing him. A fool for coming here under his guise of peace."_

" _Picard is dead, too," she said, hating the words, hating how flat they sounded coming out of her mouth._

" _There was a...an uprising," Geordi explained. "Picard had no idea it was coming. One of our own, Wharton...he turned on us."_

" _What does that have to do with my son?"_

" _It was my fault," Carmen blurted out. Geordi glanced at her sideways, but she ignored his beseeching silence. "I was right there. I had a weapon. I could have stopped Wharton sooner, but I didn't. Please...if you must be angry, be angry with me. Picard tried to do the right thing."_

" _Toleel's mother died when he was just an infant." Alidar looked away from the viewscreen, unable to stand the sight of them. "He was my world. My everything. The only reason I kept fighting this war was so that one day, I could go home and teach him how to be a man. Teach him what it meant, to be Romulan. Now I will never get that chance. I have been fighting all these years for nothing."_

 _Carmen's heart broke for him. Had they met on the battlefield, she would have tried to kill him. But now, strange as it was, she found herself mourning the death of his people and the death of his spirit. She, too, felt weary of the war. A deep kind of weariness, one that transcended her body and seeped down into her soul._

" _You can still honor him," Geordi insisted. "Honor him by helping us put an end to this war. We can prevent other people from losing their sons, their fathers. Picard dreamt of an alliance. He wanted us to stand together against the Borg, to find a place where peace and hope could survive in this universe."_

 _For a moment, his words brought the old captain back to life. No, he had not betrayed them. He had only been trying to save them. To save Carmen, even. If she had known that earlier, if she could have just seen through her anger, she would have never let Wharton take control of the bridge. She would have taken her captain's place in front of that phaser, only thinking of how proud she was to die for a man like that._

" _What do I care?" Alidar snapped. "I have no reason for peace. My son was shown no mercy. And so, no longer will I show mercy." His eyes swivelled towards Carmen, sharp as spears. "It has merely brought me grief."_

" _Please listen to us," Geordi begged. "There's still time-"_

" _Not for you. I will destroy your ship. I will destroy you all!"_

 _The transmission ended._

" _The Warbird's weapon systems are firing up," Adler reported, staring at his console in horror._

 _The soldier in Carmen woke up. Anything she felt for the Romulan was cast away, on the other side of her walls. "Order all pilots to their fighters," she said to Geordi. "We'll try and break down his shields. Give the Enterprise a chance."_

" _We?" Geordi echoed. "Carmen, you can't go out there."_

 _The first hit rocked the floor beneath their feet. Carmen's arms shot out to catch herself. "I've never liked sitting around," she shouted over the klaxons. "Consider the bridge yours now."_

" _Look Carmen, those things that Picard said about you-"_

" _I don't want to talk about it!" She climbed to her feet. "Not until this is over, okay? My fighter is waiting."_

 _They would never get the chance, and she knew it. The battle was a hopeless one for them. But she didn't deserve to die on the Enterprise like her father. Carmen remembered how some of the children used to talk about a place called Heaven, a place where they'd be reunited with their parents in the afterlife. The notion was not a comforting one to her. "I'm glad they didn't live long enough to see it come to this," Carmen thought as she climbed into her fighter. "In fact, I hope I never see them again."_

* * *

"Come on, Carmen. Stay with us."

Her father's voice. Carmen felt the fog clearing. She was back in the Grolese cave, wearing the marks of Kotar's beating. And Jora's blue healing paste. The young Vakronian's eyes brimmed with worry as she hovered over her friend.

Someone else was with them, too. Toleel. Toleel had found them. And this time, she would not fail him. She felt certain that somehow, _somehow_ , the Enterprise's survival depended on it.

At the end of Riker and Toleel's exchange, the commander laid out his plans. Jora listened carefully, trying her best to commit everything to memory. Suddenly her body went rigid. "Shhhh!" she interrupted. "Somebody's coming!"

Dr. Gardener rounded the corner, glancing from face to face and mirroring their surprise. "Toleel?"

"I had to know about my father," the boy explained, a little too hastily. "Surely you can understand." He ducked his head and then hurried past him, his footsteps pattering down the length of the cave. Gardener watched him leave, a hint of suspicion wrinkling his brow.

" _You!_ " Carmen growled, eyes ablaze as she caught sight of the traitorous doctor. She rolled to her side and tried to sit up, but Riker urged her back down.

"He's a waste of time," the commander said, casting a pointed glare in Gardener's direction.

The old man winced. "I'm sorry for what happened to her. Truly, I am."

"Then why did you call the guards?"

Gardener looked down, absent-mindedly smoothing the front of his ruddy tunic. "I...I couldn't let Kotar think I had anything to do with your escape. You don't understand what he's capable of."

"I'm well aware of the Tal Shiar, actually," Riker retorted. "Carmen, that's enough!" He struggled with her as she continued to spit curses and threats at the doctor. Jora came to his assistance, placing her hands on the young woman's shoulder.

"Please don't get excited," she begged. "It's not good for you!"

Gardener inched along the wall towards Siko, trying to stay out of reach. As he started looking around for the blue paste, Jora picked up the empty bowl and held it out to him.

"Here. Sorry, but I had to use it all," she said.

A smile flickered across his face. "Quite alright. I'll just have to make some more."

"If it's not too much trouble…" Jora hesitated. She clenched nervously at her skirt, bunching it over her lap. "Do you have any mustelle moss I could use?"

"Mustelle moss?"

The young girl nodded. "For the fever. She's had heat fever for a couple of days now."

"I only have talmus root," the doctor said.

"You've been using talmus root? For blackweed poisoning?" Jora's eyes widened. "How long has he been asleep for?"

"Several days. Why? What's wrong with talmus root?"

"Quiet, Jora," Carmen snapped. "That man he's caring for...he's just like Kotar. It means nothing if he dies."

Gardener's tongue flicked nervously over his lips. "You're wrong," he said. "Siko is the only reason I'm still alive. If he dies, then I die. But if I can find a way to wake him up, Kotar has promised me employment with the Tal Shiar. It's our only option, you see. To join them."

"No." Riker shook his head adamantly. "There is another option."

The old man laughed, a mirthless sound from a mind that bordered on unhinged. "What, escape? He'll kill your daughter if you try again. And then he'll kill that one." He nodded towards Jora. "But I'm a scientist, and you're a commander. Don't you understand how valuable we are to them? Our knowledge of Starfleet gives us leverage. Gives us a _chance_."

"A chance at what?" Riker snorted. "A life of slavery within the Romulan Empire?"

Gardener's hands shook as he tucked the empty bowl into his bag. "Forgive me, commander. Perhaps...perhaps I am not as brave as you. But I am not ready for death. Not yet."

Riker stared him down evenly. "Make no mistake-bravery isn't the only thing that separates us."

The doctor had no reply. He merely stood over his bag, wringing his hands in shame. Jora placed her palm on Carmen's forehead. "Please," she said, softly breaking the delicate silence. "If you don't have mustelle moss, then is there anything else I can use? She's my friend."

"This mustelle moss…" he said. "It would help Siko?"

"It breaks fevers," Jora explained. "And it's stronger than talmus root."

"Where does it grow?"

The young girl glanced at Riker, as if for permission. "Rain Flower's Gulch," she replied when he said nothing to stop her.

"Where is that?"

"Next to Murberry Thicket."

Gardener pushed out a frustrated sigh. None of this information was helping him. "Could you show me?"

"No!" Carmen grabbed Jora's arm. "Don't help him!"

"You're very ill," she insisted, searching her friend's face worriedly. "I'll help him if it means helping you."

Gardener's eyes shifted back and forth between his patient and the girls. "Come on, he hasn't got much time. Guards!"

Riker shot to his feet. "I won't allow it! Jora, don't move!"

"I'm sorry, but it's not up to you," Gardener said, beckoning her over. The two guards appeared. "I will collect some extra for your daughter. It...it's the least I can do."

Jora dug a guilty toe into the ground. "I'll be alright, Mr. Will," she promised. "I don't think it's far."

Carmen struggled to her feet. The guards tensed, but Riker pushed himself in front of her. "No, don't! I'll take care of her." He shot a glare at the doctor. "And _you_ take care of Jora. Or else the Tal Shiar will be the least of your worries."

Jora followed him past the guards, eyeing their strange-looking weapons fearfully. One of them followed the pair out into the rain. The other stayed behind, keeping his disruptor trained on Riker as he backed towards his post at the mouth of the cave. Eventually only his shadow remained, an unrelenting patch of darkness to remind them of their subjugation.

Riker looked over at Carmen, who had resigned herself to the stone floor. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. "Phase One is complete."


	33. Decisions

"She'll be fine," Riker said, reading Carmen's distant, worried stare. "Jora's tough, like you. Now give me those hands."

His own binds lay in a frayed pile on the ground. He started on Carmen's next, sawing through them with the Grolese claw. He cast her a quick, encouraging smile before concentration drew his lips taut.

"Dad?" she prompted.

"Hmm?" Their cover was already blown, but still she called him that. Riker made no mention of it, yet secretly hoped it would stick.

"What if they find mom first? What if it's too late? I still haven't heard from her, and-"

"We don't have time to think like that. It won't help anything, understand?"

The back of her head still flat against the stone floor, she nodded slowly. "I understand." He finished one cord and started on another. After a deep breath, she spoke again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Try me."

"Why aren't you scared?"

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes slid towards his. "I don't sense it from you. Fear. Aren't you worried about her?"

"You bet I'm worried about her." _Snap_ went several threads. "But then I made my decision."

"About what? The plan?"

"No. See...it's something Picard told me once." She tilted her chin, angling her face towards him as she listened.

"He said fear is a reaction," Riker continued. "Of course you're gonna feel it; you can't _help_ but feel it. But courage-that's a decision. And being a Starfleet officer, we're faced with decisions every day. It's up to us to make sure courage is one of them."

Carmen felt the tension around her wrists finally easing as Riker started on the last cord. Meanwhile, his words were easing her mind, cutting through the muddle of what-ifs.

"And another thing-" he added. "My future mother-in-law is up there. Whatever happens, I'll have to explain it to her personally. So if _I_ can choose courage, then so can you."

A grin, finally. Then the last of her binds fell away, leaving red lines along her skin. Riker helped her sit up, steadying the young woman with a hand on her back. "I'm fine," she insisted.

"I know," he replied. "But still. Let me take care of the guard, okay?"

"Sure, have all the fun," she grumbled.

But before they could climb to their feet, Kotar's voice made them freeze in their tracks. "If you won't tell me, then we'll just ask your friends," he fumed from just outside the cave. They could hear Toleel's feet scraping the ground as Kotar dragged him inside, all while the boy made a series of bumbling protests. He must have been caught trying to sabotage the shuttle's progress, Carmen realized. His effort to buy them time had backfired. Now they had no time at all. She looked to Riker, the question burning behind her eyes. _What now?_

A grim but stoic determination settled over his features. She couldn't read his thoughts the way she could read her mother's, but somehow, somewhere, the words echoed back to her. _Choose courage._

As the clatter of Kotar's boots drew closer, Riker crouched. His legs coiled beneath him, tensed and ready. He had no weapon, but if he timed it right, he had the element of surprise.

Just before Kotar could round the corner, Riker rushed forward like a linebacker in one of Earth's football games. Carmen felt a thud in her chest as he collided with the massive Romulan. Toleel was flung to the ground as well, landing in a heap of surprise nearby. Kotar roared in outrage, his fist swinging towards Riker's temple. But Riker was ready for him. He ducked the blow and then returned it with one of his own.

The guard who had followed them in stood frozen, gaping in confusion. Carmen saw the disruptor in his hand. And then she saw her chance. She lunged for the weapon, grabbing the barrel and tilting it upward as she lashed at his knee with her heel.

The sudden action, and the adrenaline that assisted it, made her head swim. Her grip loosened briefly, only for a moment. But it was just enough time for the guard to recover from his surprise. He gripped the disruptor with both hands and then kicked her in the stomach, sending her sailing. Her head snapped back against the hard floor as she landed. She heard the crack in her ear, the crack of her own skull hitting stone. Her arms and legs went limp. _No. Stay awake. I have to stay awake._

She groaned with the effort of sliding her hands beneath her. Shakily, she pushed off the ground. It tremored beneath her with Kotar and Riker's ongoing battle. The two titans waged war on each other, a terrifying exchange of brute strength and tenacity. Never before had she seen such unbridled violence from her father, and for a moment, she found herself too awestruck to move.

Then something cold touched the back of her neck. Her stomach turned to ice. The guard stood over her, but it might as well have been Death breathing down her neck.

" _No!_ " Toleel's legs appeared by her head. "Please, Kerru. Don't do this."

The guard snorted incredulously. "A couple of Federation lives are not worth Kotar's retribution. He will punish us if they get away with this!"

"He will punish us anyway," Toleel pointed out."Even if we help him win."

Carmen's heart pounded so loudly that she heard it in her ears. She couldn't see the guard's face, couldn't feel which way his mind was leaning. While she had been here before, beneath the looming presence of Death, she had never felt this kind of fear. To die in battle was supposed to be an honor. A relief even. But she had finally found her way home, finally found something worth living for. _Please don't let this be it. Not now. Not yet._ She closed her eyes, holding her breath as it trembled in her throat.

Then Carmen heard footsteps in the rain, the footsteps of retreat. The disruptor was gone, and so was the guard. He had left Kotar in the hands of his enemies. And like so many times before, Death had chosen to spare Carmen. Or did it?

" _GO!_ " Riker's dire warning thundered through the cave. "Get her out of here, Toleel!"

Carmen's eyes flew open. Kotar had spotted them. He kicked the commander away and then fumbled for his disruptor.

Toleel grabbed her arm. "Come on!" he urged.

The disruptor pulled free. It pointed right at Carmen. But with a roar of effort, Riker threw himself into the back of Kotar's knees and sent the shot astray. A bolt of energy burrowed into the cave ceiling amidst a hail of rocks and dust.

"I said go!" the commander bellowed. "That's an order!"

Toleel wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted Carmen to her feet. Her knees wobbled, barely able to sustain the weight. "This way," Toleel instructed, gritting his teeth together as he half-dragged, half-carried her towards safety.

"No!" she cried. "We can't just leave him!"

"We'll only get in the way!" He yanked her towards the mouth of the cave. She fought him at every step, but despite the terrible and desperate things she shouted at the boy, he continued to lug her away from the two raging men.

Something went skidding across the ground. It flew past their feet and out into the gray light. Kotar bellowed angrily, deprived of his weapon. He surged after it, Riker right on his heels. Toleel shoved Carmen against the wall just in time, and the battle spilled into the evening. Rain turned red as it pooled in the rocky ground at their feet.

"The disruptor…" Toleel breathed. Carmen saw it balancing precariously on a stone ledge. For a moment, she considered darting out and grabbing it. Then one of Riker's feet glanced off of its barrel as Kotar drove him towards the edge. It clattered down the embankment and into a ravine below.

The commander pushed back against Kotar, pebbles grinding beneath his boots. Then, twisting suddenly, he turned and threw the Romulan over his shoulder. Kotar landed dangerously close to the edge, his bones jarring upon impact.

Riker glowered over him, silent and seething. His chest heaved for breath. Blood from a laceration above his brow poured into his eyes. "It's over, Kotar," he rasped. "Surrender."

A sinister smile snaked its way across the Romulan's face. He sat up, wiping the sweat from his forehead and slinging an arm over his knees. His shoulders shook with laughter. Carmen shuddered at the sound. There was something malicious behind that laughter, something devious and unsettling.

"That wasn't a joke," Riker growled. He bent down, grabbing a fistful of Kotar's uniform and hauling him to his feet. Then he forced him back a step so that Kotar's heels hung over the ledge. Still the Romulan's smile persevered.

"Over, you say? Well, I have enjoyed this battle," he jeered. "Too often, men like us-we fight from the safety of command decks. Our weapons are nothing more than a button on a screen. Thank-you for being a worthy adversary. I only hope the rest of your kind puts up as much of a fight."

Then Carmen saw it. He must have slipped it from his boot when he sat up. A metal blade glinted in the dull gray light from between Kotar's fingers. " _Dad!_ " she screamed.

At the same time, Kotar's knife thrust upward with lightning speed. It plunged into Riker's stomach, all the way down to the hilt.


	34. Two Words

Jora didn't feel quite as brave without Carmen or the commander close by. But this corner of wilderness was as familiar to her as an old friend. She knew well the emerald green leaves of the jubba plants, the colorful bursts of kooska lilies, and the gnarled tops of talmus roots. The jungle was a sacred place, her own cathedral. She didn't like these strangers traipsing through it, following her every move. Especially the one with the weapon.

"What is this? Is this mustelle moss?" Dr. Gardener asked, squatting above a rock with a cushion of orange and yellow moss.

"No, that's uh...just moss," she lied. "Mustelle moss is...brown. It's brown."

"Brown?" He raised a skeptical eyebrow. Her heart started to beat faster. She was a terrible liar, especially under pressure. A fact her brothers often exploited. "It grows near water," she added hastily, knowing that the river was good and far. Riker had instructed her to lead the doctor as far away as possible. Deep in the jungle, they would be safe until Carmen and the commander could escape and join up with them later.

But Gardener was growing impatient. "The river? I thought you told Commander Riker that it wasn't far."

"I...I guess I was mistaken."

The doctor paused. She noticed him exchange a suspicious glance with the guard behind her. Then she heard a sound-a dear and wonderful sound that might as well have been music to her ears. But to her captor's ears, it sounded much more menacing.

"It's that thing again!" the guard cried. "The creature that attacked Orreth!"

"Here, boy!" Jora shouted, throwing all caution to the wind as she answered his incessant barks. "I'm over here!"

Something silver streaked through the jubba leaves. The guard yelled in terror, lifting his weapon. But the dog was already upon him. He crashed to the ground beneath an avalanche of fur and fangs.

The terrible sound of his demise filled the jungle around them now. "Come on, Dr. Gardener!" Jora urged, pulling on his shirt. "Now's our chance!"

"You fool!" he cried, swatting her away. "Call that thing off! Don't you know what Kotar will do to us? To _you?_ "

"You don't have to be afraid of him anymore," she said resolutely. "Mr. Will is going to save us!"

"Mr. Will? _Mr. Will?_ " he shrieked. "You think that man can save us? He has given you false hope, child! False hope!" He darted forward, snatching the guard's gun from the ground.

Jora backed away from the old man, who looked like a different person all of a sudden. Rain plastered his thin, gray hair to his scalp. His skin, spotted with age, sagged beneath his eyes and his chin.

"Now listen," he said, and his voice grated like stones in the river. "You're going to come with me and-"

She bolted before he could finish his sentence. Into the jungle, into her cathedral, where she sought sanctuary from these strange men and their strange weapons. Deftly she dodged rocks that jutted into her path and roots that twisted through the mud like the gnarled fingers of a giant hand.

A fiery blaze blasted the tree to her right. Jora shrieked in fear, ducking as chunks of bark flew past her head. "Stop right there," Gardener warned. His voice came from forty, maybe fifty paces behind her. But clearly, the distance was no issue for his weapon.

Jora cowered in place, afraid to move a muscle. She could hear smoldering cinders in the tree above her. As raindrops hit the charred edges of a hole, they hissed and became wisps of steam.

Gardener's wheezy breaths grew louder, closer. "You must return with me," he said. "You must explain to Kotar that none of this was my idea."

Jora gulped, glancing about wildly. Maybe Silver would catch up to her. Or Carmen, or Mr. Will. But all she saw was more jubba plants and kooska lilies. Beautiful things that belied the fear in her gut. She thought of home, and how it lay somewhere beyond the treetops. Her warm bed, her mother's vegetable stew, her annoying little brothers. Everything she once scorned for being so ordinary.

"I said come on!" Gardener snapped. He waved the gun impatiently. "Let's get back to camp!"

" _Not yet_ ," someone interjected. Jora whipped around, holding a hopeful breath in her chest. Elion emerged from between two trees, a sleek weapon in his hand that looked just like the one Riker had surrendered. He nodded towards the girl without looking at her. "Walk back towards me, Jora. It's alright now."

Her heart skipped a beat. She had never been overly fond of the agent, but now, he meant safety. He meant rescue. He meant hope. She rushed to his side and clutched to his tunic as if it were the edge of a lifeboat.

"Do you even know how to use that thing?" Gardener sneered. "It is not like your weapons. It is not like this one, even," he said, wagging the guard's gun. "One shot from this, and-"

A strange beam of light flew towards the doctor. His entire body went rigid and he fell to the ground, stiff as a dead tree. "Oh," Elion said, turning the device in his hand over gingerly. "I guess that's how it works."

"Did you just-? Is he-?" Jora buried her face in the folds of his tunic, afraid to look over at the doctor. She had seen enough blood for one day.

"No, he's only stunned." Gently, Elion pried her away from his side and held her by the shoulders. "What about you? Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I think so. But Carmen is pretty hurt. That big man...Kotar...he wouldn't stop. And he made Mr. Will answer these strange questions. Something about a ship and orbit and-Silver!"

The big dog appeared, following his faithful nose. He trotted over and wedged himself between the two, licking Jora's tears as his tail swept back and forth. With a laugh that sounded like a sob, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as tight as she could.

Elion knelt down, rumpling the dog's ears. "He helped lead me to you," the agent explained. "But how did you escape? Where are the others?"

Jora took a deep breath. Then she explained everything that had happened, from their imprisonment on Shadow Ridge to their failed escape attempt that led to Carmen's beating. As she was explaining the current plan, a groan drifted up behind them. Gardener was stirring back to consciousness.

Quickly, Elion dashed over and picked up the old man's weapon. Gardener scowled contemptuously, but lifted his hands in surrender. "What now then?" he taunted. "Back to _your_ government, your crude and ignorant High Court?"

"No," Elion replied. "We're going back to camp, just like you said. But we're dropping Jora off with a friend first."

* * *

"You left her in a tree?!" Jora exclaimed. They hiked up a muddy slope, where a rotting tree leaned on its side like an animal waiting to die. Gardener marched in front of them, throwing a glare over his shoulder every once in awhile at Elion's phaser.

"What was I supposed to do?" Elion retorted. "Not like there's an inn or anything out here. Although rumor has it there's a good one across the river."

Weary as the girl was, she flashed him a grin. "The best one from here to Kitadara!"

Elion started to laugh, but as they neared the tree, the smile fell from his face. "Oh no…"

"What is it?" Jora's smile fled just as fast.

"Deanna...she was right here."

"Where?"

"Right _here_ ," he insisted, staring in disbelief at the empty hollow and the sprigs that littered the ground. Panic started to rise in his chest. "Where could she be?"

* * *

" _Dad!_ " Carmen screamed.

Riker grasped Kotar's hand to keep him from wrenching the knife any deeper. He trembled with the effort, beads of sweat rolling down his face with the rain. A spot of red bloomed on his tunic, slowly spreading outward. Carmen tried to scream again, but it came out as a gulping cry instead, a sound of mourning and terror that only a child could make.

With one quick jerk, Kotar withdrew the knife. Riker staggered back, sinking to one knee. He fought for breath that would not come. Carmen's breath would no longer come, either. She could only watch, utterly helpless, as Kotar pressed the bloody blade to her father's throat.

"You were right," the Romulan sneered. "It _is_ over. But not for me. And not for them." His gaze flicked menacingly towards where Carmen and Toleel huddled against the cave wall. "Not until I say so."

"No…" Riker gasped.

Carmen's whole world was falling to pieces around her. _How could this have happened?_ _I should have known better, better than to desert my walls..._ There wasn't enough time now, to rebuild. No time to brace for the red-hot pain. She stood motionless, her heart wide open, waiting for it to be ripped from her chest.

Then something strange happened. Kotar dropped the knife. It fell to the ground, landing against the stone with a metallic clang. His eyes glazed over. A ghastly grimace twisted his lips. His knees crumpled and he fell back, disappearing over the ledge. He was dead before he even hit the ground.

Carmen's feet finally budged. She stumbled to her father's side, heedless of the rain that soaked her skin and peeled the blue paste from her still-bleeding wounds. Riker hunched over his knees, clutching his stomach with one hand. "Dad...dad, I'm here," she said, choking on tears. "What can I do? Please tell me there's something I can do." Gingerly, she touched his shoulder. He sank onto his side with a groan, clenching his teeth against the pain.

His answer was only two words. " _Choose...courage…_ "

Toleel ventured forward as well. He crouched cautiously near the edge, peering down as the rain formed a curtain around his face. He found a woman looking back at him from the bottom of the ravine. Leaves clung to her sodden clothes, to her long, dark hair. Black splotches covered her body. And from her hand hung Kotar's fallen disruptor, freshly fired.


	35. No More Blues

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Though I know I am quite evil with my love of cliff hangers haha ;-). Here's the next chapter, and after this there are only two more left for this episode! But they are both on the longer side.**

* * *

Elion prodded the doctor back towards camp urgently. He had a feeling that if Troi had woken up on her own, she would try to go after her family. Jora led the way, guiding them closer and closer to Shadow Ridge. As they mounted the final hill, which nestled into the foot of Shadow Ridge, a deep thrumming filled the sky. Elion halted in his tracks, reaching for Jora. They both watched, eyes wide in fear-tinged wonder, as a metallic green spacecraft lifted above the trees. It hovered over the jungle for a few moments, rain sliding down its sleek sides. Then, as its nose turned skyward, the whole craft shimmered like a ripple in a pond and disappeared.

"They're gone…" Gardener whispered. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground, overcome by the weight of his own treachery.

 _Gone?!_ Elion sprinted up the hill. "Deanna!" he cried. "Will? Anybody?"

"Over here!" someone answered. A boy appeared, the one Elion had helped rescue from the river. Clumsily, he held onto Troi in an effort to help her navigate the muddy ravine floor.

Elion rushed to her side, taking her weight off the boy. "Up there," she pleaded. "Please. I need to get up there."

When the agent merely stared at her blankly, Toleel pointed to a rocky embankment. "There is a cave at the top," he explained.

Shielding his eyes against the rain, Elion searched the side of Shadow Ridge. Sure enough, at the top of the embankment, he spied a dark opening half-covered in vines. Could there be others in that cave?

"I'll go," he offered. "You're in no shape for the climb-"

"They need me." Troi's fever ran rampant through her blood. He could see it in her eyes. But he could also see that stubborn devotion that had carried her this far, burning even stronger than the fever.

"Come on then," he sighed, guiding her to the bottom of the embankment. Hoisting her up by the legs, he waited for her to find a handhold.

"Got it!" she cried, and her arms shook as she tried to pull herself higher. Elion stayed beneath her, bracing her weight and pushing her onward. Slowly but surely, they made progress up the embankment.

The Drums began to fade into the distance. One last peal of thunder, like the tolling of a great bell, rang out as Troi reached the top. With one final heave, Elion pushed her up and over the ledge. He dragged himself over the top next, a gust of rain blowing into his eyes. After wiping his face on his tunic, he turned around to help Jora and Toleel. Once everyone had made it, he took a moment to collect his breath and look around. Only then did he realize he was standing in a pool of blood.

The blood trickled off like a trail, leading right into the mouth of the cave. Elion followed, a dreadful feeling sinking in the pit of his stomach. He spied someone sitting just inside the cave, leaning against the wall to take shelter from the wind and the rain. It was Commander Riker.

His head tilted to the side, eyes closed and beard caked in blood. He was either dead or nearly there. His daughter had tucked herself beneath his limp and heavy arm. She pressed one ear against his chest, eyes half-closed in concentration as though she were willing his heart to keep beating.

" _Mom!_ " she cried, turning abruptly. Troi hobbled forward, into her daughter's arms, and the two embraced each other tearfully. Elion held their other companions back, giving the family some privacy. After mother and daughter exchanged a few words, broken and whispered, Troi reached for her husband's face. She said nothing to him, nothing aloud at least. But his eyelids gave a flutter. Once. Twice. Then, finally, they opened.

"Imzadi…" Troi smiled as she cupped his chin in both hands.

"What's this?" he rasped, touching the black rash on her cheek. "One of those...jungle facials?"

Her smile grew, despite the tears glistening from her eyes. "I wouldn't recommend it, though. Terribly itchy."

His chest heaved with a short laugh. Carmen sat up, removing a bloody cloth from his stomach and wringing it out. He winced slightly as she replaced it on top of the gruesome looking wound.

Troi's eyes flooded with concern. Her fingers trailed down from his face to the edges of the cloth. "Don't," Riker whispered, and pulled her to his side. Then he pulled Carmen back down to his other side, and the three of them huddled together in bittersweet resignation. Just before his eyes sank closed one last time, Riker hummed a few notes of something that made tears slip from his daughter's lashes.

" _No, no more blues…"_

"Mr. Elion?" Jora's small voice rose beside him with fear. "What's happening to me?"

When the agent looked down, he saw little shimmers of white that seemed to be floating over the girl. He reached out for her, only to find that his own arm now had the same affliction. The shimmers grew in intensity until his whole vision filled with a blinding light. Before Elion could even cry out, everything disappeared from view.

* * *

Next thing he knew, Elion was standing on a strange platform in a windowless room. A crowd of people filled this room, each one wearing a uniform of either red or gold or blue. One of them looked different in a frightening sort of way. He stood taller than the rest, with strange ridges that fanned out across his forehead. Dark brown eyes matched his dark brown skin, and a row of pointed teeth hid just behind his lips. He zeroed in on Toleel, who seemed to recognize him. Or at least his kind. The familiarity was not a fond one for either.

A lady with flame-colored hair began chirping out orders. A group of officers rallied around Will and Deanna, loading them onto stretchers and wheeling them hurriedly out of the room. Carmen watched them go, shoulders heaving with every breath.

"Your name is Elion, I take it?"

A man in a red uniform was speaking to him. His head was smooth and balding. His eyes looked kindly but somehow older than the rest of his face. He carried himself with a graceful dignity that effortlessly commanded the respect of those around him. This was a distinguished man, an honest man.

"Yes," Elion answered. "That is my name. But-who are you? Where am I?"

"I am Captain Jean Luc Picard," the man replied. "And you are aboard the Enterprise."


	36. A Deep and Empty Hole

**A/N: My concussion is on the mend, but one good thing from this-without training, I have more time to write! So I am actually almost all done, and should have the rest of this story out for you by the end of the weekend. One thing, though-as I was writing the very last scene today, one of my characters decided to do his own thing and caught me off-guard haha. So I'm going to make that scene it's own chapter, meaning NOW there are two chapters left (after this one). Not my fault-blame the characters! :-p**

* * *

"You too, Carmen." Dr. Crusher held out a hand. But the junior officer merely stared at the doors where her parents had disappeared from view, heedless to all else. "Carmen?"

"No." Carmen flinched away from her hand, her lips curling back into a snarl. It was like she had snapped from some tether that kept her grounded, kept her tame. And in that moment Crusher saw a glimpse of the old Carmen, the first Carmen, the one who had fled through the halls of the Enterprise without any regard for those in her way.

"I won't give up on them," she promised the young woman. "Don't you dare give up on them, either. They-"

Carmen took off, shoving Crusher's staff aside in her mad dash from the transporter room. Down the winding corridors she fled, ignoring the shouts of her name, and didn't stop until she reached the door of her living quarters. Sinking against its cold, hard surface, she fumbled with the security code best she could through a torrent of tears. Then, dragging herself across the threshold, she listened as the door closed automatically behind her. A tomb-like silence pressed in from all around. Everything looked just as she had left it, piled into hurried attempts at straightening up. A stack of books borrowed from Captain Picard. A baseball glove still covered in dirt. A wooden moose sitting high upon a shelf.

Her stomach lurched, and she closed her eyes to focus on keeping its contents down. This was just like before. She had run home that day, too. The sight of her father in sickbay was too much of a shock for the nine year old girl. She had run to their quarters, trying to seek solace in the surroundings she knew so well. But even though everything was still the same-the pancake batter left on the counter, his uniform slung over the back of the couch, his trombone leaning against the wall-somehow, it had ceased to be home. Tomorrow would come with all these things, but not with him. And the realization was almost more than the child could bear.

 _Open up, Bright Eyes._

Carmen jumped, knocking over the little table next to her. It clattered to the ground, making an ugly sound as it cleft through the silence. " _Na'devvo' yIghos!_ " she shouted. "Just...leave me alone!" _Walls. I need my walls._ She backed herself into a corner and drew her knees up to her chest.

 _That's the last thing you need._ Lwaxana's presence seemed to reach through the closed door. While Carmen was busy trying to rebuild her walls, her grandmother was building a bridge. And marching straight across.

 _How do you know what I need? You love your gifts, but I hate them! I don't want to feel this-I don't want to feel at all! I shut it out once, I can do it again!_

 _I know how much this hurts, love. That severing of something planted so deep in your heart that it had already taken root. And when it's gone, all you're left with is a hole. A deep and empty hole. Every day, you find yourself walking along the edge of that hole, hoping you don't fall in._

Carmen opened her eyes. She stared at the back of her door, amazed that anyone else could understand her pain so profoundly. Pushing off the wall, she stood up and approached her door with slow, tentative steps.

It slid back to reveal Lwaxana's face, somber but smiling. She wore one of her absurdly poofy gowns that you could hear coming from nine decks away. This one was a shade of burnt red that reminded the junior officer of an Alaskan sunset.

"Does it ever go away? That...hole?" Carmen asked aloud, her voice a ragged whisper.

"No. It doesn't."

"Then what do I do?" she despaired.

"Make me some tea." Lwaxana bunched the bottom of her dress in her hands and forced all the material through the doorway. Carmen balked at first, standing in the threshold alone. Then, shaking her head with a ghost of a smile, she walked over to the replicator and placed a couple of orders.

"Here," she said, handing a hot cup of tea to her grandmother. As she sat down beside her, the cup in her own hands trembled violently. She was still in bad need of medical attention, but right now, her heart had more important needs.

"You see, that hole never goes away," Lwaxana continued. "But it doesn't stay empty. There are people who will come into your life-people who build bridges in order to cross that span. And day by day, they leave little things behind to fill up that space. Little treasures."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she quipped. "I'm speaking in metaphors!"

Carmen laughed, surprising herself. It burst through her tears with a strange sobbing sound. Lwaxana grinned and gave the young woman's knee a pat. "No, I mean things like smiles. Laughter. Those moments you cherish the most, they're made up of little treasures. And the deeper the hole was to begin with, the more treasure it can contain. A heart that was once empty can be overflowing again someday. I promise."

Carmen drew in a breath. "Until then...it just hurts?"

"There is no way around the pain, unfortunately," Lwaxana said. "You can only go through it. But you are strong enough, to go through this. It won't break you."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well what did you do in the past, every time you swore that you could not go on?"

Carmen pondered for a moment. "Usually I found the nearest tavern and drank til I-"

" _You went on."_ Lwaxana cast her a firm but loving smile. "And you will keep going on. Don't fret, Bright Eyes. You're stronger than you know. You are, after all, heir to the Fifth House." She winked, and her smile shone like a little piece of treasure. "Now come on, Dr. Crusher is worried about you."

* * *

The doors opened. Immediately, the clamor of sickbay poured over Carmen. Screens beeped with numbers and graphs. Crusher's staff bustled about, hardly even sparing a glance in her direction. But in the middle, perfectly still, lay her father. He reclined on a bio-bed, one hand hanging carelessly over the edge. Carmen inhaled sharply. She knew this scene. She knew what happened next. For she had stood here hundreds of times before, in hundreds of flashbacks that haunted her sleep. She would race into the room, shouting for her father. But every time she reached for his outstretched hand, someone would snatch her away.

"Carmen!"

A different little girl was racing through the room. She collided with Carmen in an unabashed hug, and the junior officer had to take a step back to brace against the impact. "Jora?" she said, blinking in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Your doctor checked me out. I think her name was Beverly? She's very nice. Anyway, she's looking for you. Want me to go get her?"

"What? Uh, no. That's okay." While her exuberance grated against Carmen's weary nerves, she also found herself relieved to see the girl in such high spirits. Her time in Romulan custody had not dimmed that inner flame. And something about that made Carmen realize just how resilient the young Vakronian really was.

"I think Carmen needs a little time with her parents right now," Lwaxana said, lacing her arm around the girl's shoulders. "Why don't you come with me? There's someone I think you would like. His name is Allan Sheppard, and I've been getting to know him…"

Her grandmother's voice faded from earshot. Carmen was alone again. Her father's body still waited up ahead. On his far side, Troi had been lain across a bed of her own. The color of her face appeared mottled from the blackweed, and it made Carmen shudder with how reminiscent it looked of a Borg's skin. For a brief moment, the young woman felt a tug on her memory, but could not place it.

Taking a deep breath, she willed her feet forward. _Choose courage...choose courage..._

"Dad?" she called, a whisper this time instead of a shout. She reached for his hand and trembled, waiting for someone to pull her away. For the captain to shout, " _Do not let her see!"_ But nothing happened. Her fingers touched his. The flashback was broken. Different. This had never happened before. "Dad?" she whispered again. "Say something. Talk to me. Please..."

Nothing.

She sank to her knees, too tired to care if everybody in sickbay saw her crumble. Tears streamed relentlessly from her eyes. This is why her quarters didn't feel like home anymore. Because home wasn't a place-it was a family. It had become that hole in her heart, the one she had built a wall around. And now she finally understood what Lwaxana was trying to tell her before the mission. _Grief is just love with nowhere to go._ You have to let people in. You have to let them build bridges. You have to accept the little treasures they leave behind in your life. _If only I could have learned that sooner. If only I could have had more time with you and mom..._

Then someone was squeezing her hand. It was the hand she was holding- _his_ hand! Her heart skipped a beat. She whipped her head up to find his eyes open and watching her. A knowing smile danced across his lips.

" _Dad!_ " She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face beneath his chin. It was then she noticed that a strange device had been strapped to his stomach. It pulsed now and then, and green numbers would appear on a nearby screen. "You-you're going to be alright?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I have a wedding to attend, remember?" He lifted up slightly and kissed the top of her head.

"Mom is going to be alright, too?"

"Your mom is going to be just fine. She's sedated until Beverly can finish processing a cure. Shouldn't take more than a few hours. Unfortunately, that means…"

Carmen pushed herself upright, holding his hand with both of hers. "What? What is it?"

"Well, that means you'll have to keep your grandmother entertained while we're down and out."

Laughing, she wiped her tears with a shoulder. _Home. We're all back home._ "Hey dad, speaking of grandma..."

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking...maybe we could invite her over to dinner again?"

Riker put a hand over his chest and groaned. "Can't you see I'm in enough pain?"


	37. Bridge Builders

Elion stood, transfixed, beside the great windows of the observation lounge. The planet of Vakrona drifted below, bands of blue and green and gold across its surface. Everything he had ever known, ever seen, ever touched-all lay within that little sphere that looked almost small enough to hold in his hand. The silence from up here was humbling, for no words would reach this far, no matter how loud or how important the speaker.

Only two other people occupied the room. One was Captain Picard, who sipped on a cup of Early Grey from the head of a long table. The other was Carmen, the only member of the away team well enough to be in attendance. She watched the agent with an unwontedly gentle expression, for his sense of awe and wonder reached both her Betazoid and human sides.

"Would you like anything to eat, Mister Elion?" Picard offered. "Or a drink perhaps?"

Elion's face turned towards him first, then his eyes. "No thank-you," he said, resisting the urge to return his gaze to the window. "I...I would like to get straight to the point, actually. What am I doing aboard your ship? Am I your prisoner?"

Picard smiled, appreciative of his candor. "No, you are not. You are merely our visitor." He gestured towards one of the chairs, and after one final glance out the window, Elion drew himself up to the table.

"You mean...you will return me home?"

"Yes." Picard set his tea down and breathed in deeply. "None of your people have ever had this chance before, have they? The chance to see their whole world out one window?"

Elion shook his head, still incredulous of it all. "It's something I always dreamed of. The stars...they've enticed me since I was a little boy. Nobody else ever understood. They took comfort, I think, in the idea of being all alone."

"It is a comfort of closed minds," Picard said, and his words struck an unexpected chord with Carmen. "But no one is alone. Not really. Those stars that enticed you...they told you that, didn't they?"

Elion's eyes seemed to smile. Carmen tried to read him, but his emotions were too subtle now. Still, she could tell that Picard had struck a chord with him, too.

"Yes, there are marvelous things out here. Wonders you can't even begin to fathom. But beautiful as the truth can be, it never looks quite as we imagined it." The captain rose, tea in hand. There was something rueful about his sigh as he approached the window. "Mister Elion, you were never meant to see the truth. Not yet. Your people...they need the comfort of their ignorance a while longer."

Elion frowned. "You want me to keep this to myself? To pretend this never happened?"

Picard's shoulders turned toward the agent. "The day will come, when they are ready. And when that day comes, when Vakrona is ready to venture into the unknown, I think you will find a hand waiting for you. Then, perhaps, the stars will be revealed for what they truly are: a promise." His voice grew steadily, rising like an ocean swell with slow but undeniable force. "A promise that even in the darkest hour of night, you are not alone. For where there are stars, there is life. And where there is life, there is hope. Do not rob your people of that revelation. Do not let the truth shake them before they are ready to stand on their own two feet."

Several moments passed before Elion spoke. He blew out a breath, long and low. And then the smile returned to his eyes. "Yes, I...I think I understand."

He meant it. There was nothing subtle about his mind now. Carmen looked over at the captain, nodding discreetly. Picard nodded back, then tapped at his combadge and beckoned an officer into the room. A tall, husky man with a curly crop of hair appeared.

"Mister O'Brien, will you escort our guest back to Transporter Room Four?"

"Aye aye, sir. Would you like me to collect the girl as well?"

"No." Picard shook his head. "I will leave that to Miss Riker."

A grateful smile beamed from her face. But as Elion and O'Brien filed into the hall, Carmen hung back. There was one more matter weighing heavily on her mind.

"Sir? May I ask you something?"

Picard stood near the window, tea up to his lips. He blinked, mildly surprised to find her still in the room. "You may."

"What will happen to Toleel?"

Picard decided against taking a sip of his tea. He rested the cup in the palm of his other hand and drew in a breath instead. "Toleel will be reunited with his father on Elba IV."

"Elba IV?" Carmen repeated. "The penal colony? Why? Toleel is not a criminal!"

"No. But he will be safe there, from the Tal Shiar. They both will."

Carmen looked away, reluctantly conceding the fact. Still, she felt conflicted. "Sir...what if the Tal Shiar isn't their only threat?"

"What do you mean?"

The young woman's shoulders tightened with her hesitation. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Go on."

Her eyes fixed onto his, and their depths seemed to darken. "I just feel like there's something more. Something coming. And I should be able to stop it this time, but I can't see all the connections. Not yet."

Picard drew himself close to the junior officer, the features of his face softening. "Have you heard of survivor's guilt, Carmen?"

A wry smile crept into the corner of her mouth. "You sound like my mom."

He chuckled softly. "Then I assume she's told you about the weight of tragedy at a young age, the responsibility that isn't yours to carry?"

She nodded.

"Listen to her." He rested a hand on her shoulder, a small but meaningful display of affection for so stalwart a man. "And remember-sometimes, these mountains that you carry, you were only meant to climb. Now off you go."

"Thank-you, sir," she mumbled, but as she turned to leave, she paused once again. "And...one more thing? While we're speaking plainly?"

"What is it?"

Her father's crooked smile tugged at her lips. "Do you really have an obsession with Ambassador Troi? Or is she just-"

"Dismissed!" He turned briskly away. "You are dismissed, Ensign Riker. Give Jora my regards."

* * *

Carmen found her Vakronian friend in Ten Forward. She sat next to Sheppard at a little booth in the back, casting him girlish smiles every now and then. Lwaxana was busy narrating some outlandish story, complete with wild and exaggerated gestures that made the young girl giggle. Haykov and Laforge had crammed into the end of the booth. Stacks and stacks of dishes covered the table, enough food for an entire fleet.

For a few moments Carmen hung back, not wishing to make her presence known yet. She looked from face to face, the faces of her bridge builders, trying to memorize each of their smiles as if she could take a mental picture of their contentment. And as she did so, their contentment became her own.

Sheppard was the first to notice her. He waved her over, and Jora joined him with an eager shout. "Carmen! Carmen, you have to try some of this Tarsmokian powder cake!"

"Tar _vo_ kian," Sheppard gently corrected.

"Oh, right. Well it's one of the most amazing things I've ever tasted! Even better than my mama's sweet rolls!"

"Come and join us!" Haykov offered, elbowing Laforge out of the way to make room next to him. Lwaxana stopped him short, however.

"There's something she has to do first. Jora dear, I'm afraid it's time for you to go."

"Oh," she said, her disappointment palpable. Not just to Carmen and her grandmother, but to everyone around the table. They all rose as she climbed out of the booth and said her goodbyes one by one. Sheppard and Lwaxana got especially long hugs. Soon enough, Carmen was heading towards the transporter room with the young girl trotting beside her.

"Hey Carmen?" Jora asked as they stepped into the turbolift together. "Will we...will we ever get to see each other again?" Her face pinched together in guilt, thinking back to her initial anger and betrayal upon learning Carmen's true identity.

"Maybe." The junior officer smiled at her warmly, trying to banish those traces of guilt. "Maybe one day, soon I hope, your people will be ready to fly in spaceships like us. And if the Federation ever decides to send Vakrona an invitation, I'll be first in line to deliver it personally."

The clouds over Jora's countenance cleared. "Maybe you'll even be captain of your own ship by then!"

Carmen laughed, half at the notion and half at the young girl's eagerness. "Well if I am, then you and your whole family can be my guests of honor."

"Will there be powder cake?"

Carmen grinned. "Lots of powder cake."

* * *

Dr. Gardener was forced to undergo rigorous rehabilitation. Meanwhile, Elion and Jora were returned safely to the planet. Armed with transponders, the agent located each of the remaining Romulan bodies and they were beamed aboard the Enterprise for proper interment. Jora (accompanied by the faithful Silver) amassed piles of gisbi fruit to coax the Grolese back to his den, where he could resume his hibernation. Once the rains subsided, it was safe to cross the river and leave the jungle behind, just as it once was.

Jora's family came bursting out of the house, overjoyed to have her back. Even her little brothers treated her differently for months thereafter, letting her be the space ranger instead of the alien and saving their crawlers for somebody else's sweet rolls. In time, life returned to a blissful ordinary.

She kept in touch with Elion for years. They would exchange letters about everything that had happened, about the family from space and their ship called the Enterprise. But eventually Elion left the city, retiring from the bureaucracy and the paperwork of his job, and they lost contact. He settled in a small town on the outskirts of a jungle that reminded him of Almer. The local children would gather on his porch, listening to stories about aliens and captains and space travel. Just a bunch of fantasy-or so they thought. One day, as Elion picked up the morning paper, he found big bold letters across the top announcing Vakrona's first-ever female agent. Under the picture of a woman who looked back at him with eyes bright as flames, he read the name aloud: "Jora Perler."

* * *

 **A/N: Only one more chapter to go! Which makes me kind of sad, because I've really enjoyed this journey with you. A huge thanks to everyone still reading along, and I'll see you at the end!**


	38. Souvenirs

**Alright, this is it! Final chapter! Meant to post this sooner, but life had other plans. Anyone else get hit with winter all at once? This is by far the worst blizzard we've had in the eight years we've been up north. Several feet of snow since Sunday, and it's STILL SNOWING! The highways are shut down, the schools are shut down, it's like snowmageddon out there. Anyway, I'm very excited to finally reveal some long awaited answers. And I have a few more notes for you at the end :-)**

* * *

 _Two weeks later_

Carmen sat on the floor of her private quarters, an unmarked box open before her. Carefully, almost reverently, she added a piece of paper to the scattered pile inside. Some of the pencil marks had run due to the rain it was held under last, but still she could make out Shadow Ridge and the winged silhouette of the Grolese.

Door chimes interrupted the soothing chords of jazz that drifted overhead. "Come on in!" she called, and her heart did a little flip-flop to sense his presence fill her doorway.

"Hey," Sheppard greeted, shuffling inside. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm...fine. All things considered." A brief and somewhat sad smile flitted across her face. "I just thought it would be easier, you know? To finally send a child home. Two of them, if you count Toleel. He'll spend his days on Elba IV, but he'll be with his father at least."

"Goodbyes are never easy. Even when they're _good_ goodbyes," he said with that straight-forward and simplistic wisdom that she always appreciated. He squatted down beside the box and gave it a curious wrinkle of his brow. "Hey, what's this?"

"Oh, just receipts, brochures...mostly stuff from our trip to Alaska last year."

"You mean right after the trial?"

Nodding, she closed the box in a sheepish hurry. It felt a little silly, to keep all these worthless odds and ends. But ever since her trial, ever since that day she was granted a home on the Enterprise, she found herself unable to get rid of even the smallest reminders of happiness.

"Oh!" Carmen sprang to her feet suddenly. "I have something for you!" She rummaged through a mountain of stuff on the sofa while Sheppard looked on, intrigued. "They're somewhere around here...oh _no!_ What happened?"

Carmen cradled a wilted bouquet of flowers in her arms as though it were a fallen soldier on the battlefield. The petals, once a glorious shade of lavender, now appeared sad and gray. Two leaves near the base of the stalk had begun to speckle with decay.

"Are those from Vakrona?" Sheppard asked.

"Yeah. They used to look like orchids. And I remembered...well, during our last away mission...you said that your mother used to put orchids all over the house. So I wanted to...I just thought that...here." She dumped them into his hands.

His gaze wandered over the rotten blossoms tenderly. "No one's ever given me flowers before."

"No?" Carmen wrung her hands together. "Well, flowers were actually my second choice."

"What do you mean?"

Her grimace turned into a tenuous smile. "According to Klingon custom, one is supposed to bring their _parmaqqay_ the liver of their enemy upon returning home from battle. But...I opted for flowers."

"I appreciate it," he laughed. "And here, maybe some water will help them perk up." He went into the kitchen and filled a glass from the sink. As he placed the shriveled flowers inside, it felt like putting a bandaid on an axe wound. "What was that word, by the way? Par...parma…"

" _Parmaqqay_ ," she repeated. He waited for her to explain, but she hopped up on the counter instead, letting her legs swing over the edge. "So what are your plans for today? Does your shift start soon?"

"Not for several hours," he answered."The truth is...I came by to see if you were hungry."

"Hungry?"

"Yeah. You know... _ghung_."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Have you been learning Klingon behind my back?"

"And that's not all," he said with a wink.

Carmen watched, perplexed, as he began to pull things from her kitchen cabinets. A skillet. A spatula. Some mixing bowls. Then he ordered a whole list of ingredients from her replicator. "What is all that for?" she asked.

"Pancakes," he replied, a smile in his voice. "Your favorite. It was your grandma's idea, actually. She said you appreciate food that's been cooked the old-fashion way. Plus, it would be nice if we didn't have to eat in Ten Forward all the time."

"I don't know…" Carmen glanced around her quarters, which looked like the aftermath of some natural disaster. "Ten Forward is a little tidier than my place."

"It's okay." The smile in his voice now reached his lips. "I don't mind your mess."

"No, you never have. " Carmen smiled back, a strong and sincere smile that he always seemed to draw from her.

Though her pancake skills were rusty, she tried to remember some of her father's best tricks and tips. It wasn't long before they had a lumpy bowl of batter to show for all their hard work. While the first pancake sizzled in butter, her quarters filled with the smell of home. There was something familiar about it all-the dried batter on the counter, her uniform slung over the back of the couch, her trombone leaning against the wall-familiar, yet also wonderfully new.

The pancakes turned out flat and terribly burnt on one side. But Carmen insisted they were the best she ever tasted. She sat on the counter, a plate in her lap and a vase of dead flowers nearby. They talked and they laughed and they ate until their hearts were as full as their bellies. Carmen told him about Jora's village and the seven Perler boys. About the fight at the bar and the night she spent in the jungle. About being captured by the Tal Shiar and marched to Shadow Ridge. About the fight for their lives and what it was like to see her father in sickbay all over again.

"You're going to miss that place, aren't you?" Sheppard asked as she came to the end. They had been gravitating towards each other slowly, and now he found himself standing in front of the counter, just inside of her knees.

"Yeah. I think I'll always miss it, but it's good to be back. Good to be here, with my _parmaqqay._ "

His head tilted to the side. "There's that word again. Are you going to tell me what it means?"

Reaching up, she curled an errant strand of chestnut colored hair around her finger. "It means...imzadi. Beloved."

Before her words could finish sinking in, she lifted off the counter and pressed her lips against his. It was a small kiss, a brief kiss. But several moments passed before he could open his eyes again.

"I...I thought you…"

"I know what I said, back on Zinor," she hastily interjected. "That...that it would only hurt, to get attached. This is all just borrowed time for me, and so I was trying to protect myself. But...I don't want to hide behind my walls anymore. I want...well, I want you."

The breath halted in his throat. "So...I can kiss you back?"

She cupped his face in her hands, gently guiding his mouth towards hers. "You'd better."

He obliged, laughing through the kiss. It made her laugh in return, and for a moment they had to break away, eyes shining at one another. As they kissed again, she pulled herself to the edge of the counter and up against the young man. This time, the kiss was neither small nor brief.

" _Crusher to Ensign Riker."_ The doctor's disembodied voice interrupted them all too soon. Carmen snatched the small device lying near her sink.

"What is it?" she demanded, a breathless edge of impatience in her voice.

" _What do you mean 'what is it?' The recital started five minutes ago!_ "

" _Baka_!" Carmen pulled herself away from the young man. "I'll uh, I'll be right there!"

"What is she talking about?" Sheppard asked, his head still spinning from the rush of alluring sensations.

"You know how Dr. Crusher puts on these recitals every month? Where people go up and read poems and stuff?" Carmen leapt down from the counter, wiping at the flour and dried syrup stains on her clothes.

"Yeah?"

"I sort of asked if I could read something at the next one. But I completely forgot that it was tonight!"

Sheppard sighed wistfully, looking around at the glorious mess they had created. "Well, mind if I come with you?"

Her eyes sparkled at the idea. "I'd like that. My mom and dad will be there, too. And my grandma, but she'll be reading a poem she wrote for Picard."

"Your dad will be there?" He gulped, trying to banish the thoughts that had just run rampant through his mind.

"Yeah, come on!"

She took his hand and led the way. Together, they hurried through the maze of brightly-lit corridors. They were the same corridors as the ones from her childhood, but something felt different about them now. A good kind of different.

After a few more kisses in the privacy of the turbolift, they raced across Deck 10 to the performance theater. They were still holding hands when they stepped inside, pausing a moment to let their eyes adjust.

"Over here!" Crusher whispered, frantically waving at them from stageside. Carmen turned to Sheppard and kissed him on the cheek. "Try your best to stay awake, I'm not until the second half. I'll see you afterwards?"

He nodded, a boyish grin on his face as he watched her trot down the aisle to join the doctor. After they disappeared behind the curtains, Sheppard looked around for a place to sit. His stomach turned to ice when he saw Commander Riker staring at him through the crowd. Something about his unwavering gaze reminded the junior officer of a hawk locked onto its prey. He was about to slink off when Troi waved him down.

"Allan! Come sit with us!"

"Yes, Allan," Riker said, though it sounded more like a threat than an invitation. "Come over here."

* * *

Carmen's knees trembled as she took center stage. She had marched into battle before, but _this_...this was a whole new level of fear. The expectant silence practically smothered her Betazoid senses, and she felt sure that everyone could hear each nervous thump of her heart.

"I uh…I wanted to read something..." Carmen's voice didn't sound right, probably due to the fact that her tongue had turned to sandpaper. "Something I found in a book. It reminded me of someone. Of a lot of people, actually." She scanned the audience, trying to gauge their reaction. Most everyone had fallen asleep already. Some were even snoring aloud. Only a handful had survived Data's anthology dedicated to his cat, a 12-page series of poems and essays. Worf had taken the stage next, and managed to recapture some of the audience with his rendition of the ballad, _When Your Enemy's Innards Are A-Glistening_.

Amidst the sea of faces, Carmen found her mother's encouraging smile. There was her father, too, sitting rigid with his arms folded across his chest. Between them hunkered Sheppard, pale and frightened and vigorously avoiding eye contact with the commander.

"It's uh...it's called the Bridge Builder," she continued. "By Will Allen Dromgoole." Clearing her throat, she lifted a slip of paper to her face. Then, with a struggling cadence that would have made Dromgoole roll over in his grave, she read each line of the poem aloud.

 _An old man going a lone highway,_

 _Came, at the evening cold and gray,_

 _To a chasm vast and deep and wide._

 _Through which was flowing a sullen tide_

 _The old man crossed in the twilight dim,_

 _The sullen stream had no fear for him;_

 _But he turned when safe on the other side_

 _And built a bridge to span the tide._

" _Old man," said a fellow pilgrim near,_

" _You are wasting your strength with building here;_

 _Your journey will end with the ending day,_

 _You never again will pass this way;_

 _You've crossed the chasm, deep and wide,_

 _Why build this bridge at evening tide?"_

 _The builder lifted his old gray head;_

" _Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,_

" _There followed after me to-day_

 _A youth whose feet must pass this way._

 _This chasm that has been as naught to me_

 _To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;_

 _He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;_

 _Good friend, I am building this bridge for him!"_

* * *

A video flickered to life on the screen. The dim form of a Romulan appeared. He hunched over a metal table, his hands shackled in chains. "That's when I first met her, you see. When I was stationed on that miserable little planet." He spoke to someone sitting in the shadows to his left. With a nod of their head, they urged him to continue. "I was only a subcommander then. My men found a scout somewhere in the tunnels. She was a mere child, not much older than my son. It was my responsibility to dispose of her. She seemed so ready for it, so...accepting of her fate. None of my training had prepared me for that."

"But you didn't kill her?" the stranger asked.

"No. I...I let her go. Her face haunted my dreams for years thereafter. Time and again I would see her kneeling in front of my gun. But then she'd look up and it would no longer be the girl-it would be my son, Toleel. I was so afraid that he would come to a similar fate. That the war would leave him as empty and alone as that wretched child."

A mirthless smile curled the Romulan's lips. "But it was not the war that took my son. It was Carmen Riker, the child soldier. The life that I spared. When I saw her on my viewscreen, standing on the bridge of the Enterprise,she was no longer a child. But I knew her face, I knew her name. There was blood on her hands. Indeed, it was on my own hands as well. Every Romulan life that she took since that day in the tunnels stained my conscience. And the most important life of all-perhaps the only life I truly cared about-was gone because of her."

A deranged laughter seized hold of him as his eyes glinted with the madness of grief. "Now when I dream of that day, I dream of her blood streaming across the rocky ground. Of her throat cut into ragged ribbons. Ha! I look at that shine in her eyes, the shine of death. It makes me feel…" He inhaled deeply. "...at peace. Then I wake up, and she is still alive. But my son is still dead. _My son is still dead!_ "

The video cut to black, his final words stinging the silence. Eventually another dim form came into view. This one was human. Male. Sandy blonde hair. He wore a red Starfleet uniform and looked right into the camera as he spoke.

"That was one of our first interviews with Admiral Alidar," he explained. "But this is not the Admiral Alidar that you know. Not the one that you brought to trial last year, Captain Picard. That one committed suicide on Elba IV six months ago, though Leyton had the incident covered up. No, this Admiral Alidar is from Carmen Riker's universe. She wasn't the only one to cross over, you see."

He looked away for a moment, listening carefully. Then, deciding it was safe, he continued. "My ship was sent to investigate a strange energy signature near the planet where you found Miss Riker. We were shocked to discover a Romulan Warbird in its death throes. We pulled Admiral Alidar from the helm, along with a handful of survivors from his crew. There were strange creatures onboard, some sort of human and machine hybrid. The Borg, he called them."

An involuntary shudder ran down the officer's spine. "The Warbird's shields had been weakened by its battle with the Enterprise. They were boarded by a roaming party of Borg once Miss Riker's ship had already been destroyed. But something happened when they crossed over into our universe. The drones...they went into a dormant state. We tried to study them, but found their biology far too advanced. Leyton ordered us to press Alidar for answers, and he revealed that his people had developed a weapon against the Borg-a weapon that would bring about the war's end. Yet he had no incentive to help _us_ build such a thing."

A hint of guilt crept into his eyes. His voice dropped lower, almost to a whisper. "When you brought Miss Riker to the council, Leyton finally found the leverage that we needed against Alidar. He told him of how she had come through the same wormhole. How she had found her family again, rebuilt her career. All while he was languishing in prison, without a ship, without a son. He is demanding her life in return for the weapon. A weapon that...in all honesty...we may need soon. You see, two weeks ago, the Borg drones from Alidar's ship...they woke up. If Leyton builds this weapon, he will possess the only viable means of saving the Federation. It will be all he needs to declare martial law. You must find another way. You must help us, Captain Picard. You must help us all."

The video ended, leaving the screen an ominous black. Leyton paced the floor up and down, sighing repeatedly. "Good thing Talbot intercepted this message before it reached the Enterprise," he said, turning his attention to a man who hung, beaten and bloodied, between two strong-armed officers. Sweat dampened his sandy blonde hair while his red uniform hung in threads from the night of torture he had just endured. Leyton looked him over with disgust. "Why would you do this, Wharton? Why would you turn on me? I offered you command of your very own ship if we could get that weapon built!"

"These are people-real people," he said through swollen lips. "You can't just use them like pawns in a chess game."

"Yes I can," Leyton replied, slipping a phaser into his hands. "And then I will rewrite the rules."

"I saw her, you know. On Zinor." Wharton struggled to lift himself a little. "She damn near killed herself trying to save a fellow crewmember. She's not the monster Alidar described. We can't just hand her over-"

A bolt of energy shot straight into his chest. His eyes and mouth flew open, frozen in pain. His entire body glowed for but a few seconds before he seemed to evaporate into thin air.

Leyton switched the phaser in his hand back to stun. Calmly then, he walked towards the monitor and pressed a few buttons. Two words flashed across the screen as he disappeared down the long and dark corridor, humming to himself all the while.

MESSAGE DELETED

* * *

 **I would love to hear what you think! This is the end of this episode, but there will be one more for this series (with a little one-shot inbetween just for fun, a scene on Betazed during Carmen's visit with Lwaxana). I'm still tying up some loose ends for the final installment, but I have a rough draft of the first chapter written, so I'll try and post it for you sometime soon. I hope you'll keep following! A HUGE thanks to everyone who has made it this far, and to those who have left such wonderful and witty reviews. You guys keep me going :-)**


	39. Next

Just wanted to let you know that I've published the first chapter of the next episode! It's called "Borrowed Time," and it will be the last episode I do for this series. Hope to see you there!


	40. And One More Thing

One more thing-I've posted the Betazed/Lwaxana visit. It's called "the Collector." Doing something a little different with that one, in that Carmen will be the narrator. I thought a first person POV might be a fun change of pace :-)


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